Murder In the Maze
by Greenie1001
Summary: Tanya arrives in the Glade, but things get complicated when bodies start turning up in the deadheads. Can she help catch the killer? Or will she be the next victim? Contains some violence, read at your own discretion DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters, bar my OC(s), or anything from the Maze Runner book series or movies
1. Chapter 1: Arriving

Darkness sweeps around me. A metallic creaking ricochets across what sounds like a confined space. Cold metal grate brush against my fingers, a shiver running down through my body. I crunch down on my jaw, taking shallow breaths.

A loud slam begins to echo around the walls. Immediately, the ground beneath thrust upward, knocking me against a wall. Blaring lights flash irregularly, glimpses of the room coming into focus. Iron bars encase me.

Trying to steady my breathing, I rack my mind, searching for some clue as to how I got here. Nothing, no memory remains in my head, of anything, or anyone. My eyes squeeze shut, a bitter lump rising in my throat. I try again, but still, nothing, not a trace of who I am, or where I am from.

I shoot upward, pounding at the roof of the cage, screaming at the top of my lungs. Slowly sinking back into my original position, warm tears start to roll down my cheeks. Questions run rampant in my mind, what is happening to me? I choke back a sob.

Suddenly, the cage stops. Silence fills the room, the only audible sound being my trembling breaths, rising and falling with each passing second.

Light bursts in through above my head. I bury my head inside my hands, cowering from the brightness. The cage shakes. Squinting, I focus my eyes in front. Whispers emerge from people above me, "It's a girl..."

A loud thud sends the cage rattling as a shadowy figure jumps into the box. The person stretches out their pale hand towards me. Reluctantly, my hands shakily reach for it. They push me out of the cage.

I collide with the ground, landing on grass. A crowd of people surround me. Quickly scrambling away, my eyes dart around them.

Some of them jeer or laugh as if somehow amused. Others stare, pointing at me. My heartbeat quickens, rapidly increasing each second.

A boy jumps out of the cage, shooing away the throng of guys, "Back of will ya? Greenie looks like she's 'bout to have a heart attack."

I jump to my feet, shifting my gaze to the immediate surroundings. Massive stone walls surround a large square of grass. Stone pathways wind in and out beyond the walls, only visible from breaks in the wall. Vines cover the walls with cracks rippling in and out. A forest lies to the east, scattered houses spread around it.

A tap on my shoulder brings me out of my daze. I turn around to see a pale teen. His gigantic brown eyes set his chiselled face, blonde hair resting over his forehead. Rugged clothes lie over his slim frame, and he has some sort of gardening tool in his left hand. In a strange accent, he starts speaking. "Welcome to the Maze, Greenie!"

Lost in confusion, I manage to croak out a response, "W-what did you do to me? Why can't I remember anything?"

The blonde teen continues to answer my questions, "I didn't..." Before he can finish, a loud rumbling sound comes from the walls, and the ground starts to shake. The gates in the walls begin to move. I search for some sort of reaction from everyone, but they just look normal, like it's happened a hundred times before. The boy continues speaking, "I'll explain later, for now, we need to get back to the Homestead."

"This'll be your new home, Greenie."

Newt, as he is called, leads me inside a giant wooden house, and into a room upstairs. Worn beds cover the creaky floor, while hammocks hang down from the beams of wood on the roof. My mind runs rampant, not wanting to accept the realization, this is my life now.

Newt tosses a sheet and some rope at me. "Ya can tie your hammock over near the door, if you need help, Gally can help you. He'll be showing ya around tomorrow, seein' as he was the newest Greenbie. Your just lucky ya got in the Homestead, most shanks end up sleepin' outside, 'part from Keepers."

The door slams shut, another guy entering the room. He's tall, at least six foot, and must be at least eighteen years old. His brown hair is cut above his forehead, revealing the biggest eyebrows I've ever seen. The stench from his clothes makes me chock.

"Maybe this new Greenie knows a lot more than she's telling us, she's the first female one to get here, and maybe the last." Shoving past Newt, he stands right above me.

Newt puts his hand over eyebrows' shoulder and intervenes, "Calm down Gally, we don't know that yet."

This is Gally? He is the one who is showing me around tomorrow, and we're bunkmates. Hopelessness sinks into a pit in my stomach, as if this day could not get any worse.


	2. Chapter 2: Celebration Night

Noise blares through my ears from the chattering amongst the gladers. Tonight is when they celebrate their new arrival. Darkness looms over me at the thought of rejoicing throughout this misery, my entire life, gone, forever.

Flames blaze into the air, shining over the dark faces of the other gladers. I'm sitting on a log beside Newt and another Asian glader who I don't know the name of. Over near a big house, well shack, another kid is dishing out some sort of stew. Newt leans over beside Alby, laughing as he gulps down a drink, alcoholic by the look of it.

Gally is over, surrounded by a group of guys, forming a complete circle. One smaller boy is in the centre. Without hesitation, he charges at Gally, his fists flying around Gally's head.

I sprint over to see what is happening, bursting through the group. The distinct smell of sweat and mud bombards my nose as I spot Gally standing in the centre of the circle, his fists clenched and raised in a defensive position.

Cheers erupt from the guy beside me, bursting through my ears. Gally flings the boy he is fighting over his shoulder, smashing his back straight into the ground. The booming thud only causes everyone to roar even louder. Swiftly, the boy scampers to his feet, wiping the muck off his shirt.

Gally mutters some taunts at the other boy. Sweat drips down his face and a slight look of embarrassment as he finally charges Gally at top speed. Everyone stays silent in anticipation of what will happen next.

Gally suddenly dodges the boy and sends him flying straight into the crowd. Shouts from the gladers send a sharp pain shooting through my head. The boy starts wiping blood dripping off his nose as Gally prances around the circle, flailing his hands in the air.

Abruptly, a piercing cry erupts from inside the Maze. I jerk around to see what is going on. The gates on the walls are still completely shut yet the noises are still happening. Something inside the maze is creating crunching sounds, and high-pitched screams echo across the glade.

All but familiar looks flash across the Glaser's faces at the sound of it. Hesitantly, I inquire what's going on, "What was that?"

Gally begins to wipe the dirt off his clothes while answering my question, " That's the Grievers. Don't worry, shank, they can't come in here."

I shudder at the thought of being torn to shreds by whatever is out there, although with these 'suicides', here might not be the safest place either. Who is to say that I won't be next?

Immediately, a memory creeps its way back into my mind. Tanya, my name is Tanya, I remember.

"...and over here is the Homestead, this is where..."

Gally's voice slowly disappears as my mind drags onto other things. I start thinking about what he said earlier, about the jobs.

Apparently, there are twelve, the runners, baggers, cooks, med-jacks, leader, 2nd in command, brick-nicks, builders, sloppers, slicers, baggers, gardeners, track-hoes, and map makers. Tomorrow I'll be trying out for the gardeners.

"Are you even listening?"

The orange glow of the sunset shines over Gally's face as he snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, waking me out of my daze, "Yeah?"

Raising his incredibly huge eyebrows, he stands directly over me, "Look Greenie, if you're not going to listen, there ain't any point in me telling you anything."

Switching the topic, I point my finger to the stone wall directly beside us, "What's that for?"

It has many names carved into the stone. Some words are deeply carved in, but some of them are crossed out.

Gally pulls out a chisel from his back pocket, "That reminds me, write your name up." He passes me the chisel and crosses his arms. I just hold the chisel, wondering what to do.

He nods and points to the wall, "C' mon Greenie, it's not that hard."

I begin trying to write up my name. The sharp edges from the name beside mine dig into my arms as I start bashing the stone with the chisel.

_**Tanya**_

"Nice, have fun, shank." He says, starting to walk back towards the Homestead. I trace my fingers over the engraved letters, almost in a trace. Biting my lip, I search my mind for any past memories, but none. With a sigh, I push my back against the stone wall, sinking down to the grass.

Tears swell in my eyes, waiting for me to blink. A lump forms in my throat as I try to gulp it down, but I cannot. Emotions overwhelm me; sadness, frustration, but mostly pain. The pain of knowing that only a week ago, I had a life. Not only to have that ripped away, gone like I don't even exist anymore. To think that whoever, or whatever I was is lost forever.

I wipe away tears rolling down my cheeks, falling onto my tan shirt. I rise up from the ground, inching over towards the Homestead. It does not take long to arrive.

People run across, each going to their beds after a long day. I stumble towards my hammock, collapsing onto it. The sound of sleep gets more appealing as I shut my eyes, falling into a deep slumber.


	3. Chapter 3: Work Experience

Newt has me digging up trees, which is a lot more exhausting than I had previously imagined, but it beats the alternative of sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Beads of sweat drip down my forehead as I plunge the machete into the base of a tree, the hot sun beating over us.

Crashing the blade into the stump of the tree, I gradually sit down beside it. I wipe the sweat from of my forehead, and remark to Newt, "Well, I don't think this is my thing, maybe we could just skip to the next job?" I pause before swiftly continuing, "...sh..shank."

Newt sways his head back and forth. A voice appears from behind me, "Shank, Greenie, it's not that hard to say, s-h-a-n-k?"

I twirl around, the Asian guy from last night looming over me. His impeccable hair, a confident stance, and biceps practically bulging out from his shirt make him hard to forget, "What are you doing here, aren't you like a runner or something?"

Ignoring my remark, he suddenly turns to Newt, "Hey Newtie, Alby's looking you, sounds pretty urgent so you better hurry your butt up."

Newt nods, a stern look on his face, "I have to go soon, don't go anywhere." With that, he runs off towards the forest, or as they call it, the Deadheads.

Sneaking after him, I head to the Deadheads. Dense foliage covers the entire forest, blocking out the sunlight. Newt's silhouette soon disappears into the darkness of the trees. I creep through the branches, snapping twigs underneath my feet.

A wooden cross lies up ahead, barely visible in the dim light. Carefully, I walk over.

There are lots of these crosses, gravestones. Questions race through my mind. What happened to all these people?

Names have been scratched over some, but moss and lichens crawl all over these, no-one's been here for a while. I bend over to see the name engraved is _'George.' _His name was scratched off the wall earlier.

Distant voices soon reach where I am. I shuffle away, following the noise. As Newt comes into view, I crouch behind a tree, poking my head out.

Newt and several other guys are surrounding something hanging down from a tree branch looming overhead.

A body hangs limply from the tree. It's a boy, maybe seventeen or so. He must have been dead for some time as his skin is pale white. The silky brown hair on his head is covered in dried blood. Green veins on his arms pop out from the weight of his body.

Sickness writhes through my gut, twisting my stomach. I jerk away, gulping down a mouthful of puke.

One guy is up the tree balancing on one of the branches, trying to cut the dead boy down with a machete. The body falls to the ground with a huge thud. A dark teen in a blue shirt carefully walks over and regretfully closes the dead boy's eyes.

Interrupting the silence, Newt begins to speak, "When was he killed?" No-one says a word as the shock settles over the others. Newt repeats the question, "Alby, when did he die?"

The blue-shirted guy finally answers, breaching the silence, "Last night, same time, about midnight."

I step out from behind the tree, failing to blend into the crowd as all eyes turn towards me, "Is this a regular occurrence?"

Newt responds, "It happened 'bout four months ago, another guy was found, same thing, hanging in a tree."

"Suicide?" I ask.

Newt seems rather on edge, but answers me, "We thought so too 'til another one was found two months ago, then we became suspicious."

Alby continues on Newt's sentence, "There was another one last month, and here again, the day you arrived."

Gally shoots me a suspicious look, eyeing me carefully. I cock my head to the side, returning the stare.

Alby walks in front of me, blocking my view as he signals for another group of about three guys to come over and move the body, "Get him back to the medjacks, see if they can give us any more clues. Do it quietly, I don't want a scene. As for you, Greenie, I'll talk to you in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4: First Day

_"Get up, quickly!"_

_"Thomas?"_

_"We don't have long."_

_He rapidly begins tugging at my arms as I shoot up from my bed. Frazzled at the sudden outburst, I continue my line of questioning, "Why...wha...what happened?" Thomas starts jerking his head from one side to the other, as if checking the doors for something, and begins his explanation, "There's not many of us left now, I think your next, WICKED need a new test subject."_

_I blankly stare at him, as if not quite processing what he just said. "How do you know it's not you, or Deedee?" Looking down, he whispers in a subtle tone, "I'm sorry... I had no choice. They said if I helped, they'd let us live. I'm sorry."_

_Before I can fully grasp what he said, several fully armed men march through the door, and begin dragging me down the hallway. "I'm so sorry." His words continue to echo throughout my mind as everything begins to fade._

"Alby, is that you?"

A crack of light seeps through the open window, revealing his face. "Yes Tanya, now gets out of bed, we got a long day ahead of us." Muttering complaints under my breath, I whip off my excuse for a blanket and leap out of bed.

The cold morning air blows throughout the room prickling my skin as I reach for my work overalls, "So do you wake up all the gladers or just me?"

Alby proceeds opening the wooden shafts, immediately lighting up the room, "Neither, but today's a special day for you. After what happened to Clint, Jeff couldn't handle being a med-jack on his own. Ordinarily, you would try each occupation, but, as we need a new med-jack, that's where you're bein' transferred. Of course, Jeff will be showing you the ropes, but that shouldn't be too difficult. Think you're up for it, Greenbean?"

My express excitement is soon stumped at the thought of what happened to Clint. He was the glader they found when I arrived. Never-the-less I can't pass up an opportunity like this, it sure beats gardening or cooking, "Really? That's it? No big interview or keeper meeting or something?"

He continues towards the door, turning back to look at me, "No, just don't be late. When you're ready, head over to the med center, Clint will show you what to do."

As he leaves, I start to remember my dream. _Who that was? Did that happen, or was it nothing more than a mere dream? _The booming sound of the gates crashing open quickly interrupts my train of thought. _I better get to work._

I can't stop thinking about that dream, if only I could remember more.

"Are you gonna eat that, or just stare at it for the next ten minutes?"

Glancing up from my plate, I see another glader, he can't be more than sixteen. Although toned, his slight appearance makes him seem rather thin as compared with some of the others. Hazel brown eyes give his face a rather gentle look, filled with excitement.

I look back down at my plate of...food, I think, it's hard to tell with Frypan. "Well, it's this or starve to death so..." With eager anticipation, he whips the chair next to mine and swiftly sits himself down.

"I'm Jeff, you probably have already heard, I'll be training you! Not that there's a lot to learn, it's sort of trial by error more than anything around here. Think you're ready to start?" His cheesy grin and overenthusiastic tone would make anyone question his sanity, "Yes?"

Before I can say anything more, Jeff hastily rushes off his seat, making his way over to Alby, who is sitting at another table perpendicular to mine, "Sorry Greenie, gotta dash, come over to the med-bay when you're ready! Cya!" _Where even is the med-bay?_

"So Greenie, this is where you'll be most of the time. Over here we have the..." Jeff's voice starts to disappear into nothing more than noise in the back of my mind.

The med-bay itself is located right outside the homestead, north of the deadheads. From the outside, it seems to be nothing more than a wooden shack. Inside, however, beds line the majority of interior walls.

Light shines in through three well-positioned windows, one on each wall, bar the exception of the door. On a table at the far side of the room, lies vials of a colourless substance, encircled with bandages and a bottle of some kind of alcohol.

I glance over the room again, finally taking it in, before resuming back to paying attention.

"It's quite basic procedure for emergencies, like applying pressure to deep wounds, or chest compressions, which are pretty rare, well, it's never actually happened. Most of what you'll be learning is stitching a cut, applying bandages, etc."

"Are there that many injuries?" I remark, simultaneously fiddling with a bandage.

Jeff proceeds tidying the table, "No, no, not always. Maybe the odd building accident or cut with a gardening tool. Usually, I check to see if someone's sick, especially the runners. That's pretty much all you'll be doing, that and giving over-dramatic gladers a fake injection or something to put their mind at ease..."

In an instant, the door flings open and Zart bursts through, his face pale like he's seen a ghost, "It was him...he was there...I saw him..." Jeff rushes over and lays Zart down on one of the beds, "What happened? Zart?" He mutters something under his breath, "You have to believe me! It was him...had to...be..."


	5. Chapter 5: Self Reflection(literally!)

"Will Zart be okay?"

Newt begins plunging an oaken stick deep into a wooden toilet, or as Newt put it, the klunking pot, "' course greenbean, he'll manage. Poor shank, probably got himself seein' things out in the deadheads."

Pacing back and forth across the ground, I try to recall Zart's precise words, _"__**It was him... I saw him.**__" Maybe I'm just being paranoid, surely it's possible he was referring to someone else. _

A sudden gust of wind sweeps the putrid stench of klunk towards me. "Phew! That's some nasty stuff right there. Why are you here anyway, aren't you a weeder or something?" I remark, simultaneously pinching my nose.

How the stench of this place doesn't travel across the rest of the glade is beyond me. A large wooden bowl sits in the center of the mud hut, as a ray of sunlight, protruding forth from a gap on the roof, lights the room. Over the bowl rests a mahogany plank, presumably for sitting on. Hardly hygienic...

Newt mutters something to himself whilst wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead and on his ragged sleeve, "One of the sloppers had a 'lil wager, typical glade stuff, ya know? Well I lost, now I'm left, lookin' at myself through klunk water."

A flood of relief washes over me at the realization that I already possess an occupation. I can already feel nausea sinking in, turning my stomach. Newt glances back up at me, "Speakin' of, you've seen yourself, right? It ain't like we got mirrors or somethin'."

The realization soon hits me like a ton of bricks, _I don't know what I look like_, _I can't remember_. With everything that's happened, the thought never crept into my mind.

"I never really thought about it I suppose."

A slight smirk flashes across his pale face as he signals down to the toilet, "No time like the present, greenbean."

_Does he mean what I think he means? _ "Wait, you're not serious, are you? There's bound to be something else reflective around here..." Passing my gaze around the room, I soon discover that this might just be more convenient, but still, the smell... "Look Newt, if you think I'm about to look down there, you've got another thing coming! There's bound to be all sorts of mutations down that!"

My verbal complaints and disgusted expression soon cause for a reaction from Newt, "C'mon Tanya, you're really gonna wait 'till we get back, or ya gonna brave up a bit?" My curiosity gets the better of me as I approach the klunk pot.

As I try to see past the murky waters, I can make out some recognizable features. Smooth auburn locks swoop over my peachy skin. A light dust of freckles partially covers my stumpy nose, emphasizing a peculiarity of my eyes. The fading light in the room and dirty water makes it hard to tell, but I soon realize both my eyes are different colors. One possesses a deep shade of blue, but the other, a hazel green.

"C'mon Greenie, don't get too carried away."

Abruptly, Jeff barges in through the door, gasping for a breath, "Newt, where have you been? I was looking all over for... phew!" An expression of disgust passes across his face, "Is that... are you cleaning the klunk pots?"

Rolling his eyes to the back of his head, Newt responds slightly annoyed, "That's what it looks like, now what did you wanna say?" Jeff continues, "Well, I told Alby about Zart, and he told me to get you, said you should talk with him, see if he saw anything. Tanya, you should probably come too."

After what feels like an eternity of walking, we eventually reach the med-wing near the homestead. Zart's shuddering breath echos throughout the room as cool gust of wind slams the door shut.

In a kind but gentle tone, Jeff begins talking to Zart, who is at the far corner of the room, "Hey Zart, Newt's here to talk with you, asking about what happened, what you saw."

He doesn't look much better from the last time I saw him. His face is still white as a sheet, eyes drenched in fear. Looking up from the floor, he timidly answers, "I'll talk to her."

All eyes shift their gaze towards me. An unspoken confusion crosses everyone's minds, including my own. Jeff retreats back towards the door, Newt falling in line behind him.

As they leave, I approach Zart, "Why so paranoid?" I say, pulling out a chair beside his bed. A shadow of fear falls over his grave face, revealing the seriousness of the situation, "Your the only one I know I can trust for sure."

Before I can question him, he continues, "I was getting some fertilizer from the deadheads, when I heard a weird noise. When I looking in the direction of it, I could see a shadowy figure, like a man, that's how I know I can trust you."

_What is he so afraid of? _ My mind is riddled with curiosity, "What happened?" Taking a deep breath, he proceeds, "I couldn't make out much through the dim light, but he started sprinting towards me. I knew then and there that if I didn't get out of there, I wasn't going to make it."

I soon recall being in the deadheads, I could have died, had it not been for Gally's big mouth. But if that's twice, it calls to reason that whatever or whoever this is, has some special connection to the deadheads, or it's just mere coincidence. Maybe whoever put us here is trying to mess with our heads...

"Why didn't you want anyone else to know?"

My question slowly sinks into his mind as he replies, "And risk whoever it was knowing that I told you? No, the best chance I have if they're convinced I won't tell." As far as I'm concerned, there's not a lot Zart can tell, not much of importance.

A quick knock on the door interrupts our conversation as Newt comes back inside, "You two done yet? Got a job for ya, Greenie."


	6. Chapter 6: Clues

Pains burn throughout my muscles after I sprint across to the south-east corner of the glade. Gasping for air, I exasperatedly stubble towards a tightly compacted group of animal pens with some buildings behind them, presumably the 'slaughterhouse.' However, the pain in my legs takes the focus of my attention.

Piercing squeals erupt from the swine inside the fenced courtyard. A gathering of builders has pitched themselves by the fence, repairing it. The constant banging of hammers soon subsides as I approach the gladers.

"Sup fellas? Newt sent me, something about an injury?"

I breathlessly remark, before Gally abruptly appears from behind one of the surrounding rooms. His aggressive stance and piercing gaze make me hesitant to ask. In a husky voice, he replies, "This way, Greenie."

Indistinct chattering protrudes from the builders as they proceed to hammer at the fence. Following Gally, we approach a toned builder, seated on a wooden stump beside one of the buildings.

He looks to be no more than seventeen or so. He has rough skin and an olive complexion, along with smooth chestnut hair. I'm soon drawn to a slight graze on his left arm; _I hope this isn't what Newt was talking about when he said he had a job for me._

"C'mon shank, patch him up!"

Gally's stern voice confirms my theory, as I reply sheepishly, "But it...it's a graze!" He wrinkles his immensely huge eyebrows in confusion while scratching his forehead, "No Greenie, it's not a _graze._ Look at it, there's blood, which makes it a cut, _shank_."

Shaking my head in disagreement, I respond, "No Gally, it is most certainly not a cut! Do you really think tha..." Before I can continue, the 'injured' glader talks in a gruff voice, "Are you two gonna argue all day or patch me up?"

Huffing in annoyance, I roll my eyes and open the medical pouch Jeff gave me that's attached to my belt. In it belongs some pieces of cloth and a small bottle of alcohol, purely for medical reasons, or so I'm told... Pulling free one of the rolls of cloth, I snatch it from the bag and go over to patch him up.

A minuscule trickle of blood rolls down the veins bursting from his forearm. The graze itself barely penetrates the skin, only annoying me further. I messily slop the cloth over the cut and wrap it around his arm. Intentionally, I squeeze the bandage tightly, causing the teen to wince as a slight chuckle escapes my lips. Tying it off, I look back up at Gally, and sarcastically reply, "Happy now?"

Promptly, another builder struts over from the animal pen and begins to speak, "Uh, Gally, um..." A glint of anger hangs over Gally's face as he shouts back, "Spit it out shank!" The timid guy responds in a hesitant tone, "W..we need more wood..."

Fumbling around, I butt into the conversation, "What's so bad about that?" A look of fear crosses his face as he continues, "We've heard, uh, the rumours, about some-something out there, killin' us off... I ain't going out there."

"I'll go."

Gally immediately protests, "Look shank, last time you were there..." I abruptly interrupt him, "Look, Gally, I'm not going to die from collecting a couple of twigs!" Before he can interject, I head off towards the deadheads.

Overhanging branches loom above the forest floor, causing a dense atmosphere. Flecks of light break through the adjoining leaves, just enough to make out my surroundings. The faint sound of birds chirping disrupts the dreary silence as the dead leaves crunch beneath my feet. Faint screams from foxes echo throughout the forest, only adding to my suspense.

Swiftly, I approach the place I landed on the last time I was here, the graveyard. I pang of sorrow hits me at the sight of it. At least ten wooden posts mark the death of a glader, each engraved with a name. _What happened here? Does it have anything to do with the other deaths?_ Questions bustle throughout my mind. Ambling across, I look for anything that might be important in my investigation.

_George_. That's the name I saw last time, right before I was almost bludgeoned to death. _This place must be significant to whoever the killer is..._

A loud snap, like a branch breaking, echos across the deadheads. Someone else is here. A lump rises in my throat as I fight the instinct to scream. Fear clouds my mind at the thought of what might happen. Clenching my fists, I turn to see who is there.

"What are you doin' here Tanya?"

Gally's voice emerges from the dark figure hiding in the trees, "I could ask you the same question!" I respond, with a hint of anger. Walking into the light, he continues, "Look Greenie, I wasn't gonna have you running off into the deadheads by yourself! Us shanks look out for each other, like it or not."

Frustrated, I huff in annoyance, "You could've said so, instead of scaring me half to death!" A look of bewilderment blooms over his face at my sudden outburst, his eyes bulging in surprise. Before he can answer, I continue, "And I was looking for clues about the killings before you ask, again."

"That's not your job, Greenie, gettin' wood's more important." He says, crossing his arms as he towers above me. Puffing my chest in pride, I respond in a rather sarcastic voice, "Of course, Gally, collecting a couple of twigs is more important than catching a killer, real brains right there."

"Tanya?"

A distant voice bounces across the deadheads. _What is it now?!_


	7. Chapter 7: An Unexpected Expedition

Stumbling across the Glade, I spot Minho, stretching out beside the East gate, not too far from me. A sly smirk rises from the corners of his mouth, causing me to fear the worst. After he called, I assumed I was needed for some trivial matter, but not anymore. I can already feel the swelling of an intense dread bubbling inside of me. As I approach, I am drawn to a leather satchel resting on the ground beside him.

"Sup Greenbean? Ready for some exercise?"

Minho's words sink deep into my mind. _Exercise_. Bewildered, I stand in confusion, croaking out a response, "Wh-what do you mean?" My mind races with possible answers, anticipating his every word. "Running, Greenie. You're with me today." Minho replies, running his hand through his sleek black hair.

Questions bustle throughout my brain at the thought of running through the maze. Surprised, I answer, "But I'm not a runner!" Grabbing the satchel by his feet, he responds, "Yeah well, Newt's sick and someone has to take his place. Everyone else is too much of a slinthead to go in the maze, which leaves you, shank."

Curiosity gets the better of me, as I continue, "Newt's a gardener, not a runner!" Without hesitation, Minho abruptly tosses the bag at me, "No, Greenie, he's a runner. Now, are you coming or what?"

Before I can object, Minho begins jogging into the Maze. Dragging one foot in front of the other, I approach the entrance.

A dark shadow falls over the gray stone walls, towering overhead. Thick vines delve into the grooves ruptured throughout the rock, giving it an almost eerie appearance. The walls twist and wind down in a maze of confusion. Peering through, I soon see Minho, pacing himself as he runs further into the maze. Eager to catch up, I race after him.

Plunging further into the maze, we run for what feels like hours, "So...uh...what exactly am I...meant to...be doing?" Pain rips throughout my legs with every step I take. Sweat begins to pour off my head, each breath feeling heavier than the last. "Running." Minho replies, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

A part of me wants to laugh, but the ache of my muscles prevents me from doing so. Recomposing myself, I ask again, "Se...seriously." Slowing to a halt, Minho stops at a wall seemingly identical to the last, "We map it, Greenbean. Every turn, every wall, we memorize it. Here."

Stopping to a halt, Minho grabs his satchel and starts looking through it, pulling out a scruffy notepad and pencil, "Take this, map out where you go, that way you won't get lost. Meet back here in about an hour."

With that Minho runs on, deeper into the maze. Pain flares up in my legs, causing me to jog at a slower pace than before. Every wall looks just like the last one. A burning ache shoots up from my ankles, only increasing my agony. Turning my jog into a walk, I push my back against the stone wall, relieving myself.

The sound of a loud clanking ripples throughout the maze, followed by a high-pitched screeching. Adrenalin bursts throughout my body, sending a chill of panic in me. The frightening cry bounces from wall to wall, making it impossible to tell how close the source is.

Before I can move, a horrific creature crawls across the walls, into the same passage as me. Metal limbs reach out from its body, shredding anything in its path. Its body resembles that of a spider as it subtly creeps around the wall.

I try to move, pushing every muscle in my body. My efforts only worsen the situation as I trip backwards, landing on the ground. Immediately, the creature turns it's gaze towards me. Ripping the vines from off the stone, it starts sprinting after me.

Scrambling to my feet, I run as fast as my feet will carry me. Sprinting from wall to wall, it almost feels like an endless cycle. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, every beat like it might be my last.

The thumping of metal against stone seems to be getting closer and closer. Each turn I take could be luring me further into the maze, but I don't have a choice.

"This way!"

Minho appears from behind, overtaking me immediately. Tightly gripping my arm, he pushes me in-front of him. _The Gate._ Up ahead I can see the Gate, getting closer with every passing second. Suddenly, the Gate starts moving, closing. The grinding of stone only fills me with more adrenaline. _So close..._

Every step feels like an eternity, as if time is standing still. We can't be more than ten feet away, the doors almost sealed shut. With every ounce of energy I have left, I dash towards the doors, Minho close behind me.

With one final stride, I run into the Glade as the doors slam shut behind us. I glance at Minho, before collapsing to a heap on the ground. Blood rushes to my cheeks as pain rips throughout my body. An immense feeling of relief washes over me, as a distorted voice echos through my brain, but I can't make out the words.

"Tanya?"

Minho's voice sharpens into focus, "Did you hear me? No-one's ever done that!"

"Done what?" I reply groggily, still exhausted. The dusk light sets over Minho's face as he leans his back against the Gate, "Seen a Griever without gettin' stung." His reply only confuses me further. "Getting stung?" I ask, still panting for breath.

Minho grabs a water bottle from his satchel before responding, "Yeah, stung. Makes shanks go crazy and all that." After taking a swig, he passes the bottle to me. Taking it, I ask another question, "Who got stung?"

Pushing himself off the wall, he slops himself down beside me, "Justin, Alfred, George... Look Greenbean, you're missing the point, we just..." I immediately interject him before he can continue, "George?" He rolls his eyes in annoyance and answers, "You're hopeless."

Passing my eyes across the Glade, I spot Alby and a crowd of Gladers running over towards us. My guess is that someone saw my 'daring escape' and told everyone. Here goes nothing.


	8. Chapter 6: She Ain't A Runner

Alby emerges from the crowd of Gladers, his eyes flaming with anger. A flood of annoyance flushes over me at the thought of this day getting even worse. I push myself up from the ground, stumbling as I try to regain my balance.

"Tanya!"

His voice booms across the Glade as conversation flourishes from the others, each one whispering something indistinctive to the next. All the faces blur together as I focus on Alby, standing in an almost defensive position. His face fumes with anger as he continues, "What were you thinkin'?"

I clench my jaw, refraining from saying something I might later regret. Confusion soon replaces my anger at his sudden outburst, I didn't do anything wrong. Before I can rise to my defence, Minho responds, "Dude did you not see that? Me and this shank just outran a Griever!"

"You know the rules, Minho!" Alby snaps, turning to face Minho, who scoffs in almost disbelief. "What rule?" I say while simultaneously gripping my fists. Almost ignoring me, Alby continues, "She's ain't a runna'!"

Only mere whispers can be heard from the other Gladers like they're not even there. I vaguely remember something about 'never going into the maze unless you're a runner,' but I didn't realize it was that important.

His gaze is soon fixed on me, almost like it's holding me in place. Alby turns back to face Minho, leaning over, and mutters something to him in a hushed tone.

"Get back to work, all of you!" Alby growls and begins marching towards the Homestead, Minho reluctantly jogging after him. The crowd of Gladers disperse back to their jobs, talking amongst themselves.

A part of me just wants to hide away somewhere and forget about the whole thing, but curiosity gets the better of me. I approach Alby and Minho, resisting the urge to argue at how ridiculous this whole thing is. Upon almost reaching them, Alby's stern voice can be heard.

"Ain't no Greebeans allowed in the Maze, **ever!** I can't let that go, any shank'll be wandering off in. We got the rules for a reason." Gripping my jaw, I listen to what Minho has to say, "Quit bein' such a slinthead, Alby. I asked her, ain't like she wandered off by herself." _Finally, someone with a bit of sense_.

"It don't matter why she went out, ain't no shank allowed to break the rules, they're what keep us alive." Before he continues, Alby's anger seemingly subsides a little, "A night in the slammer, you best be glad it ain't more."

With that, he storms off towards the homestead. The dusk light reveals Minho's face, with an almost pitiful expression, "Sorry Greenie, I tried." As if getting almost eaten alive by a giant Griever wasn't bad enough, now I have to spend a night in the slammer.

Looking past Minho, I glance over at the Homestead. Fading sunlight bounces off the wooden shack, casting shadows on the emerald grass around it. The Gladers prepare for the night, casting blankets and sheets on the ground, some playfully chasing each other across the Glade. The sight would almost make me forget everything that happened.

I am soon snapped out of my daze by Gally, who seems to have appeared from no-where, "C'mon Greenie." He says, in a monotone voice.

I shift my gaze to look at Minho, but he already left. Turning back to Gally, I respond, "How did you get here so fast?" Brushing off my question, Gally loosely grips my arm as we start walking towards the slammer.

"I can't believe Alby got so angry!" I state, shrugging my shoulders in annoyance, "I almost died, and that's what he's worried about, my job." I search Gally's face for some sign of agreement, but he just remains in deep thought, devoid of expression. "Gally?" I ask, in a hesitant tone.

"It's not like he didn't have a point, Greenie."

He responds, slowing his walking pace as we approach the slammer. "You broke the rules, Greenbean. Notta' mention you could've died."

I huff in frustration before we arrive at the slammer, "Yeah well, I suppose it might have its perks, at least I won't have to hear you snoring tonight." Ruffling his brows in confusion, Gally reaches for the slammer door, pulling back a metal latch, "I don't snore, Greenbean."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." I say sarcastically, before looking down at my new cell. Lunging in through the open hatch, a musty scent bombards my nose, like no-one's been down here in a while.

Through the dim light I can make out some of my surroundings, a wooden seat lies in the far corner of the room. The floor must be concrete judging by the sound it makes when I walk, giving the room a cool temperature. I hobble over to a bed beside one of the walls. White linen covers a metal grate, propped by chains hooked to the wall.

"Sleep well." Gally mutters, before slamming the hatch door shut. The hatch door itself has iron bars across it, letting in a small amount of the remaining sunlight.

I groggily slop myself on the bed, groaning in annoyance. "Hey Alby, maybe you should spend a night in here, see how you like it." I mumble to myself, not expected anyone to hear me.

"You shouldn't be sayin' that, Tanya. Maybe he'd hear and plonk ya in here another night."

Newt's voice gives me a strange comfort, knowing I'm not alone in this stinking cell. "Thought I'd come by, shanks go crazy in dis place by themselves. I leave for one day and ya already fightin' a Griever." I jump to my feet and rush towards the door, wrapping my fingers around the cold iron bars, "It wasn't intentional... How do you do that every day?"

Newt glances from side to side before sitting down at the hatch door, "It can get tough out there, but finding a way out of this stupid Maze? That's what keeps me goin'."

His words fill me with a sense of hope, maybe there is a way out of this place. An awkward silence fills the cell like we both don't quite know what to say. Changing the subject, Newt breaks the tension, "Anyway, what happened with ya? Didn't get a chance to ask when you came bursting through 'em doors."

"I saw something... a Griever I suppose, in the Maze. There's not much to say, I just ran as fast as I could, didn't look back." I reply, my eyes drawn back to the gate before continuing, "What would've happened, if I'd been 'stung'?"

A glimpse of sadness passes over Newt's face, before being speedily struck away, "Ya go crazy, worse if ya don't get the serum quick enough." _What serum?_ Questions run rampant through my mind; none of this seems to make any sense, "What's the Changing? Minho mentioned it earlier."

"Whenever 'em shanks get the serum, they see things and that, memories or somethin'. Usually takes a couple of weeks to get better fully." He says while fidgeting with his fingers.

"Usually?" I ask, fishing for more answers. Newt looks up and lets out a little scoff, "C'mon Greenie, get some rest, that's enough questions for one night. Get some rest if ya can."


	9. Chapter 9: Another One

"Tammie, get up."

A voice abruptly shocks me out of my sleep. I hazily peer through my half-closed eyes, observing the sun beaming throughout my cell. A constant ache shreds through my body from my bed. My mind begs me for more sleep, _just a couple more minutes..._

"Tanya!"

Newt shouts, a little louder this time. I snap myself awake at the sound, shooting up from my bed, "What?" I groan, rubbing my eyes before they can adjust to the morning light.

Newt grips the door, releasing the hatch, "Time to get back to it, Greenie. Ain't no slacking in the Glade, or is that another rule ya gonna break?" The sound of the metal chaffing together only awakens me further. I step out of my bed, hobbling up the wooden stairs, and into the Glade.

The crisp morning air brushes against my skin, prickling my arms as I cast my eyes across the Glade. Already, people are beginning their day's work, some gathering plants, others supplies. I cast my eyes back to the Maze doors. Runners reluctantly jog inside the Maze, I guess no-one's seen a Griever in a while.

A beaming smile crosses Newt's face, _I guess someone's having a better morning than me_, "You still sick or whatever?" I ask, running my hand through my hair. "Nah, gettin' back to running in —"

Cutting off his sentence, Newt stares at something behind me, with a concerned expression, "What?" I turn around to see Gally running towards us, a grave look on his face. "We got...another...one."

He stops, heaving for breaths, with beads of sweat trickling over his skin. Gally smears his sleeve over his forehead before continuing, "In the...deadheads. Alby said to..." Gasping for more air, he proceeds, "...to get you, both of you."

With that, he slowly starts jogging back towards the deadheads. Newt hastily sprints after him, as do I.

It doesn't take very long to get there, there being the outskirts of the deadheads. We approach a cluster of trees, casting a shadow over a small clump of Gladers.

Despite the brightness of the day, unusual darkness falls over the area due to the towering trees. The dampness of the air gives for an uncomfortable heat, like that of a greenhouse or a glass room.

Alby leans over what looks to be a body, surrounded by Jeff and Newt, while Gally remains more distant, looking quite ill. I hobble closer to the body. Part of me knows that I don't want to see, but I have to.

"Bet this wasn't what you signed on for, Greenbean. Wasn't what I did, clearing up bodies I mean."

Jeff remarks, flicking through the contents of his medical bag. I am unable to see the dead boy completely, but he looks to be quite strong, maybe a track-hoe, or a runner. Hesitantly, I step closer, leaning down beside Jeff.

Dirt lies scattered throughout his curly chestnut hair, _maybe he put up a fight_. Pale skin stretches across his sunken cheeks, drenched of any color it once possessed. Dead brown eyes stare up at me, devoid of any emotion, lifeless. I quickly turn away, too scared to look, but I manage to focus my vision back.

A cut rope, ruffled at the edges, lies on the ground beside him. _He must have been hanged,_ I think to myself. An immense feeling of pity swells inside of me, wreaking havoc in my mind. _Who could be next?_ Jeff's voice pulls me out of my daze, "It's Wyck, seems although he's been here a while."

Gally instantaneously twirls around and retches, spewing puke over the forest floor. Jeff mutters indistinct complaints, while Alby directs the attention back to Wyck, "Just get him outta here, back to the med-bay until the baggers collect him."

Jeff grabs what looks like a stretcher, resting on one of the trees. Laying it on the forest floor, Newt and him begin to move Wyck onto it. I try to help, reaching for the boy's arm before ripping my hand away. His cold skin sends a shiver rippling through my body. Regaining my composure, I reluctantly grip Wyck's arm, pushing his onto the stretcher.

Small tears start to brim in my eyes as a lump forms in my throat. I fight the urge to cry, dwelling on it is only going to make this worse. Forcing down the tears, I step back from the body, dreading the journey back to the med-bay.

Newt walks in front of me, whispering in a faint voice, "It's ok, I'll take him."

"Thank you..." I mumble, almost inaudible. Newt and Jeff tightly grip both ends of the stretcher, manoeuvring their way out of the deadheads, Alby ambling behind them.

"C'mon Greenie."

Gally motions towards the distant treeline, already beginning to head in that direction. "Wait!" I shout, glancing back down to where Wyck lay only moments ago. There has to be some clue, evidence, something. I scan my eyes across the ground, searching for anything that might be out of place.

Gally moans a little, stumbling back to where I am. Only the rope I saw earlier remains. I lift it from the forest floor, soon spotting the place where it was once attached. A deep groove penetrates one of the branches looming above me, from what looks like the rope. _Whoever did this must have been quite strong_.

I direct my gaze back to the rope. It seems quite sturdy, thick, but surprisingly clean.

Puffing in annoyance, Gally asks, "You coming?" I nod, stuffing the rope into my medical pouch.


	10. Chapter 10: No Escape

Twigs crunch beneath my feet as I cautiously walk throughout the forest. I had gone back to the place they found Wyck in search of some clue, but to no avail. I hang my head in disappointment, kicking leaves in all directions.

Deep green trees dance across the ground, casting shadows around me. The midday sun beats on the tree canopy above causing a sweltering heat. Sweat drenches my clothes, sticking them to my skin. The moist air catches my lungs, making my journey more uncomfortable. Not too far away, I can make out a break in the treeline, back to the Glade.

I rush towards it, desperate to escape the sun. The burning heat doesn't make running any easier, but I push on, sprinting towards it.

_Finally..._ A cool breeze greets me as I plop to the ground, the soft grass prickling my fingers. I heave in large breaths of relief while wiping pools of sweat off my face.

The Glade looks just as lively as ever, regardless of recent events. Track-hoes playfully chatter amongst themselves over to the North, trailing over to the canteen for a well-deserved lunch. Over to the south-east, the piercing squeals of pigs can be heard over the sound of hammering by the builders near-by. I glance towards the map room, shifting my gaze to the wreck of a building.

To my surprise, Newt, Alby, and another Glader lurch by the door, which is strange considering Newt should still be running at midday. I push myself up from the ground, shifting myself within earshot of the map room, resting myself against the wall farthest from the door.

"We can't let the others know, under any circumstances!"

I can make out Alby's stern voice, riddled with authority.

"They deserve to know!" The other voice shouts, evidently agitated. Alby shifts his gaze towards him, "No! Not a word of this, to any of the others!"

"Alrigh'..." Newt blurts out, "...I'll tell the other runners." With that, Alby and Newt saunter towards the homestead, Newt hanging his head a little. The other guy tags along behind them, I vaguely recall Frypan saying his name was Nick or something like that.

Questions surge through me at his strange statement, '_We can't let the others know_.' I creep around to the front of the shack, being careful as not to draw attention.

I tilt my head back and forth, before looking at the map room. A thatched roof sits upon the top, looming over the rest of the structure. The door seems quite sturdy compared to the rest of it, with oaken branches stretching across it, strengthening the door. Across the top of the entrance are some words scrawled deeply into the wood, _'Do not enter, runners only.'_

I twist around to leave, but an ache in my mind wants to know what lies behind that door. I bit my lower lip in hesitation, pondering the idea of going in. _Technically, I was a runner, sort of..._ Before I can resist, I push open the door, entering the map room.

A swarm of emotions fill me; shock, confusion, but mostly awe. Delicate sticks intertwine into a massive reconstruction of the Maze. Pathways wind in and out, replicating the exact layout. Furthest to the edge, the walls thin out, with stones marked one to eight around the edges.

What shocks me the most is not the reconstruction, but the fact that it's been completed, the entire Maze, mapped out, with no escape. The whole map is a massive circle, nothing but an endless cycle of twisting walls.

"What are you doing?!"

My eyes deeply widen as I stand, frozen in place, Minho's voice ringing through my ears. I turn to see him standing right at the door, his hands resting on his hips, making him seem more intimidating.

"Uh..I..." I stutter, trying to say something, but no words come out. He immediately breaks his stare, softening his face, a sly expression riddling it, "I'm kidding, chill. Seriously though, why are you in here?"

"Well I...uh..overheard Alby saying something secretive, but I didn't realize it was this big." I respond, pointing to the map, quickly diverting the topic away from me breaking in. Minho casts his eyes over towards it, "Just finished it today, some of the runners took it pretty hard."

I softly trace my fingers around the edge of it, running my hand along the outer section. "Why's Alby being so secretive? Don't they all deserve to know that there's no escape?" I state, furrowing my brow.

"Now you sound like that slinthead, Nick. Look, I don't make the rules, only follow them, more than I can say for you." Minho remarks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Cocking my head to the side, I reply, "Very funny, Minho, but doesn't everyone deserve to know that there's no escape?" Minho runs his hand through his silky hair, "Telling those bunch of slintheads is only gonna make things worse, trust me."

"Fine..." I state, "...but theoretically if everyone did find out, what do you think would happen?" Minho rolls his eyes, knocking his head back, "Enough of the questions already. I'm a runner, not a prophet."

I huff in annoyance, heading towards the door. "You should get back to work before you break another rule, doing your part and all." Oh yeah...


	11. Chapter 11: Suspect 1

"Hey, Greenie! You're just in time!"

A gentle smile beams across Jeff's face from eye to eye. Newt remains seated on the edge of one of the closer hospital beds, Jeff lingering over him, tightly clenching something in his right hand, and a vial of something in his left. Dust swirls through the air, catching the back of my throat as I approach them.

"In time for what?" I ask, leaning over the foot of the bed. Newt turns his head towards me, his jaw gripped firmly. A deep gash penetrates his upper left forearm. Pools of blood trickle over the bed beneath him, seeping through the white sheets.

"Training," Jeff remarks, tossing a bandage towards me from his right hand. I rush towards Jeff, promptly unravelling the bandage.

Newt turns, shifting his gaze towards me, "About time ya show'd up, Greenbie." Jeff ambles towards the medicine table, tossing the vial down.

"I already cleaned it, all you gotta do is wrap it up." He adds, pointing towards Newt's wound. Reluctantly, I step closer, leaning down on one knee.

Crimson blood streams down over his arm, red streaks rolling onto the cotton white sheets beneath him, "What do I do?"

Jeff peers over me, ruffling up his sleeves, "Start at his hand, then work your way down to the elbow. Second one this week had Winston in a couple of days ago, them slicers are always cutting themselves."

I rest the beginning of the bandage on Newt's palm, "What happened?"

Wrapping it around, I pull the bandage around the gash, securing it tightly. Newt winces, tensing his arm. "Sorry..." I mutter, loosening my grip slightly.

"It's fine. Cut it earlier, on one of 'em shrubs by the garden." He remarks, relaxing his arm as I continue, "You ok? That looks like it hurts."

The bleeding subsides a little as I tie it off, securing a knot. Newt shrugs, turning his eyes to the window, "Had better days." Jeff leans over, his eyes fixed on Newt's arm, darting back and forth across the bandage, "Not too bad, a bit tight but, does the job."

I lean back on my feet, pushing myself up from the ground, and walk towards the table. Newt grunts as he hobbles to the door, "Thanks for helping, Greenie, you're gonna be catchin' up on Jeff before ya know it."

I smirk, grabbing some medical supplies from the table, first a bandage, then a small vial of alcohol. I reach my hand into the bag, something strange irritating my hand. Without hesitation, I peer into the bag, spotting a piece of frayed rope.

My mind drifts back to only a couple of days earlier, _Wyck_. My stomach turns at the image of him seared into my head. A loud thud snaps me back, the sound of the door slamming behind Newt.

I reach for the rope, gripping it tightly, and bolt out through the door, "Wait!" I shout, stomping off into the Glade. The midday sun beats across Newt's face as he ruffles his brows, "What's it now, Tammie?"

Tugging the rope from my bag, I hold it up for him to see, "I, uh, don't suppose you'd know where this came from?"

"The greenhouse, why ya want to know?" He replies, squinting his eyes suspiciously. I stuff the rope back into my pouch, "It's a long story."

The door creaks as I enter the greenhouse. A musty smell fills the room, broken shafts extending above me with light flooding in through the gaps. Dirt clings to rusty tools scattered across a wooden table at the right of the small room. I reach for a coil of rope hanging over the table from a hook clutched to the wall, just the same as the one used on Wyck.

"What are you doin' here?"

Gally bursts in through the door, flailing his hands into the air. I speedily jolt the rope behind me, turning to face him, "I could ask you the same thing."

"I asked you a question, shank." He grunts, stepping closer, looming above me. Raising my eyebrows, I flick my ginger hair out of my face, "So did I, you first."

Gally huffs in annoyance, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips, "Fine, I'm getting some tools. Your turn, Greenie." I pull out the rope from behind my back, "I found rope like this, the other day, with Wyck, thought I might be able to figure out where it came from. Gotta start somewhere."

"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about..." I cup my face into my hands, interrupting him before he can continue, "Not this again, Gally."

His eyes widen into saucers as he crosses his arms, "You don't think you're gonna find anything, right?"

"Not if I don't look," I smirk, shifting back to table. "Fine..." Gally mumbles beneath his breath. I scan my eyes across the area, a red stain of blood lies smeared on the table. I dab my fingers over it, no blood transferring to my hand, it must not be that recent. Why would there be blood in here?

"Find anything?" Gally scoffs, annoyance riddling his tone. I toss the bundle of rope back over the hook, "Yes, actually, I did, blood by the looks of it."

Gally casts his eyes over, a sudden look of anger falling over him, "Stupid shanks, they know I just finished fixing that! It's not even been a week!" He says, pointing to the table.

"Who?" I ask. "The slicers, who else? It ain't like the entire Glade works with dead animals, Greenie. If they think they ca-" Promptly, I interject him, "What if it wasn't animal blood?" He huffs once again, "What are you talkin' about?"

My heart throbs as the pieces fall into place. "Jeff!" I shout, flailing my hands into the air. "What?" Gally blurts, his face still devoid of expression, "Only one other person could have cut themselves sometime after you fixed it, Jeff mentioned it earlier!"

With that, I burst out the door, knowing exactly where I'm headed.


	12. Chapter 12: Interrogation

Heaving for breaths, I soon arrive outside the Blood House. The adrenaline that was pumping through me not so long ago drains from my body. From the outside, it just seems like every other building; rugged sticks that could blow over at any given moment, gaps through the wood, and over-grown grass flourishing up the surface.

"Here goes..." I mutter to myself, pressing my hand against the door. The imminent stench of animals covers the room as I enter, causing me to pinch my nose. Haunted screams of pigs sound throughout the building, sending a sharp chill down my spine.

Animals scuttle in fenced pens lining the interior of the walls. Another door lies at the end of the large room, slightly open. Hesitantly, I start creeping towards it, bits of hay and straw crunching beneath my feet. I reach for the next door, a hint of faded sunlight escaping through one of the splits in the wood.

I push it open, nausea wrenches my stomach almost as soon as I walk in. Bodies of dead pigs hang down from the roof, blood dripping down the lifeless swine. Different organs lie scattered across metal tables beneath them, blood-drenched tools arranged over it. Instinctively, I place my hand over my mouth, trying not to puke.

"What are you doing?"

A low, stern voice emerges from behind me. Cocking my head around, an unfamiliar face stares back at me. He looks about my age, maybe seventeen or so, a slight build. Smooth black hair falls over his forehead, stern brown eyes boring into me. He has a hooked nose and dark olive skin.

Spattered blood lies sprayed over his dirty shirt, presumably he must be a slicer. A white glow radiates off a new bandage on his arm.

"You must be Winston, right?" I ask, still trying to recompose myself. The boy continues towards one of the tables, picking up a large knife, traces of dried blood still on the blade, "Why do you wanna know?"

A skinned corpse rests on the table in front of him, drained of any colour. Winston drives the knife into it, slicing and sawing a horizontal line. I wince, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before continuing, "I-uh-just wanted to ask you some questions."

"Go on." He says, grunting as he pushes the knife across. "Why were you in the greenhouse?"

Winston furrows his brows, momentarily glancing up from the pig, "How do you know I was?"

"You cut yourself, earlier this week. I found blood on a table in the greenhouse, and, seeing as Gally had just finished fixing it, it must have been fresh." I respond, folding my arms.

He tightens his jaw, plunging the knife deeper into the carcass, the metal squishing against its insides, "What's it to you?"

I immediately shift my eyes away, resisting the urge to hurl my guts out, "J-just looking into something." Winston pauses for a second, "If this is about dem dead shanks-"

His eyes set with a sudden realization, anger fuming behind them, "You think I had something to do with that?!"

"I never said that." I say, only making him more frustrated, "You've got it all wrong, I didn't-I could never kill anyone."

The metal table clashes with the knife as he casts it onto the surface, "I didn't kill Wyck, or anyone else, alrigh'? You done?"

Winston stares back down at the pig, not expecting an answer. "Fine..." I mumble, going back out through the door.

I walk into the first room, the door to the Glade wide open, sunlight bursting in through the crack. Heading towards it, I exit through the door

I shield my eyes from the bright light beaming down on me with my elbow, walking out of the Blood House. Squinting, I spot Gally, hammering something over at the animal pens.

"Gally!"

I shout, lightly jogging over. Sweat drenches his rugged clothes as he pounds at one of the fences. "Hey, Greenie." A faint smile rises from the corners of his mouth

"What's that, on your face?!" I remark sarcastically, peering at him. Gally creases his brow, wiping his sleeve against his forehead, "What?!"

"Is that a smile? Pretty sure that's a smile." I sneer, a sly grin riddling my face. He pouts his lips, giving me an eye roll.

Smirking, I continue, "So how long am I going to be a 'greenie' for anyway?"

"Until another shank come up in the box." He responds, grabbing another nail from off the ground. "When does that happen?" I ask, sitting down on the grass beside him.

"Today should be." He says in a monotone voice, raising his hammer. I shoot up, "What do you mean?" Gally begins hammering, stopping for a minute, "Today, Greenie."

A loud alarm ricochets off the Maze walls, sounding in my ears. "Should be it now," Gally shouts, barely audible over the sound. Turning towards the elevator, I dash towards it.

Crowds of Gladers encircle the closed steel doors, eagerly awaiting the new arrival. The creaking of metal against metal can vaguely be heard amongst the murmurs from the others. Newt and Alby trudge through the crowd, leaning over the doors.

With a loud thud, the elevator screeches to a halt. Two of the Gladers reach for the doors, prying them open. The dark hole immediately lights up, a small boy curled up in the centre.

An immense swell of pity fills me, someone else doomed to the Maze. The boy looks to be quite young, maybe thirteen or so, with brown curly hair. Fear rises across his face as Alby jumps into the box, reaching out his hand, "Welcome to the Glade."


	13. Chapter 13: New Arrival

Silver tears glisten in the sun as they roll down his bright red cheeks. His eyes gaze up to the crowd, still puffy from crying. Some Gladers snigger to themselves, others have a solemn look across their faces. Alby grips his hand, wrenching him out of the box. He lands with a loud thud, frozen in fear.

"It'll be ok." The words come out of my mouth almost effortlessly, guilt pangs my gut as I know it is not true, the emptiness of them settling in. Alby pulls himself up from the box, brushing off the dirt from his clothes, "You're probably pretty confused, right Greenie?"

_Greenie._ A strange feeling rises in me at the sound, it seems like that has been my name for forever, but not anymore.

The boy stares down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact, "Not much of a talker, eh? It's fine to be scared, we all were, but this is your life now."

The boy rubs his eyes, wiping away some of his tears. "W-wh-where am I- I?" He croaks out in a soft voice. The box creaks as Alby jumps inside again, passing the boxes up to other Gladers.

Alby picks up another box, "Home."

"Y-you're Tambles, right?" The boy from earlier asks, hovering in the med-bay doorway.

I pause for a second, furrowing my brows, "Who?" Pulling out a box of vials from the supply box, I continue arranging them on the medical table.

"Uh, Tambles..." he stammers, his eyes still puffy from before, "...leader of the slobbers?"

A puff of laughter escapes my mouth, my cheeks reddening at the thought, "The what?"

The boy just remains there, void of expression, "So you're not Tambles?" I grab another box of vials from the crate, slopping them down beside the others, "Yes, well no, it's Tanya, and I'm not a Keeper, not yet anyway. What are you doing here, besides occupying the doorway?"

He immediately shuffles into the room, gloom riddling his face, "Y-you're meant to show me around, right?"

_The tour. _ It had slipped my mind until now, "Uh, I guess."

I amble towards the door, signalling for him to follow, "This way, Greenbean."

The sun beats over my face, a blanket of warmth envelops me as I begin walking across the Glade. A group of Gladers still by the elevator peer over at the new Greenie whilst whispering amongst themselves. The teen darts his eyes to the ground, shying away from their stares, "Don't worry about them."

Sniffling, the boy looks up at me, "Why can't I remember anything?"

His words hit me, like a reminder of a life before this, before the Maze. I snap back my thoughts, distracting myself, "I don't know..." the words seem so meaningless as I try to think of something, "...you should remember your name soon, could be two minutes or two days, it just depends, at least we get to keep that."

He smears his sleeve over his eyes, wiping away the tears. Sighing, I turn towards him, "I know it's difficult, but it gets easier this place..." I stop, pointing around me, "...the Glade, it'll be your new home, the sooner you accept that, the easier it is."

The boy shifts his gaze towards the ground, kicking around some stones on the grass. I spot Frypan, cooking something over at the kitchen, "You hungry?"

"I guess..." he mumbles. "C'mon, let's get you something to eat," I say, sauntering towards the canteen, the Greenie stumbling behind.

"Hey, Fry!" I shout, lightly jogging up to him, "You got a sandwich or something for the kid?" Frypan proceeds stirring a charred pot of what looks to be stew. "Oh, hi, nice to see you too," he replies sarcastically.

Smirking, I move past the cluttered tables as I reach for a white fridge, the newbie close behind me. "Whoa there!" Frypan exclaims, clamping it closed with his hand, "Get your grubby paws off the fridge. Here..." he remarks, opening the fridge, "...take these." He pulls out a bunch of fruits along with some pieces of cheese.

"Thanks, Fry," I say, passing them to the Greenie. A smile brightens on his face as he crunches down on an apple.

Turning my head, I cast my eyes over the Glade, then over to the Deadheads. _George._ An ache in the back of my mind just wants to go back there, maybe discover something new.

"Keep an eye on the Greenbean, will you? I'll be back soon." I say, wandering away before Frypan gives a reply.

Getting closer, I shuffle into the woods, manoeuvring past the large branches reaching across my body. Darkness begins to settle over me.

The moist air causes a sickening heat; sweat slowly escaping through my pores. A thick canopy of leaves hang from the trees, the darkness hindering my vision. I squint my eyes, spotting a shadowy figure in the distance.

Quickening my pace, I fight through the horde of foliage, closer to him, but remaining a little distance away. Dead leaves crumble under me as I wince with each step. A loud snap sends his head flying around, suspiciously eyeing the forest. I twirl back behind the nearest tree, covering my mouth.

Every muscle in my body seizes, daring not to move. _The last thing I want is to be caught sneaking about the Deadheads. _ The forest falls silent, neither of us making a sound. Seconds seem to be minutes as I stand, frozen in place.

With a sigh, the figure moves further away. A flood of relief washes over me as I let out a sigh. Emerging from behind the tree, I draw closer to him.

Before long, he arrives at the graves. A crack of light pours in through an opening in the leaves, revealing his face, _Alby_.

He leans over one of the markers, resting his hand on the sagged, wooden cross, George's grave.

"I can hear you." Authority riddles his tone, echoing through the words.

"Sorry," I mumble, stepping up beside him, "What are you doing here?"

Alby leans down on one knee, brushing pieces of dirt off the sign, "I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you doin' the Greenie's tour?"

"Yeah, I got a little sidetracked," I state, "what are you doing here?"

Alby glares up at me; clenching his jaw, "What does it look like?" After a brief moment, he returns his gaze back to the grave, "I come to see him, George, he and I were close."

My mind draws back to when I escaped the Maze, Minho mentioned something about George and _'the Changing'_. "What happened?" I ask as Alby pushes himself up from the ground.

"Klunkhead managed to get himself stung, in the end, it was the Changing killed him." He stares back down to the sign, "He was a good friend."

I direct my eyes across the old graveyard, "I guess that's all we have left, friends."

Newt's voice echos throughout the Deadheads; vague, but decipherable, "Tam? Where Are you?" With an exasperated sigh, I head towards his voice.


	14. Chapter 14: Soaked

"What?" I holler at Newt as I saunter towards him. As I approach, his creased brow and wrinkled nose show his obvious disdain.

Crossing his arms, he leans against the door of the Homestead, "Tanya, where've ya been? The new chap's runoff, probably balling his eyes out somewhere, you're meant to be lookin' after him, givin' him the tour."

"Maybe he just needs some space, I think we all did on the first day," I respond, walking up beside him.

Newt rests his hand on the door; stopping for a moment, "Comin' up to the Maze was the worst day of my life, no question, bein' trapped here for the rest of my life. Sure this Greenie feels the same, he don't need you gallivantin' off on him, not to mention we gotta stick to the rules, no slackin' off. "

"You're right," I say; shrugging my shoulders.

Nodding, he begins slowly pushing open the door, "Good that, now let's get searchin' for this Greenbean."

With a loud splash, a large bucket of water falls over Newt, raining down on him. It pelts down onto his head; collapsing his golden locks like a flood against simmering flames. Water continues to soak into his clothes and bandage as it rolls down to the floor, dripping against the wooden panels. A noisy clang echo through the room as the empty bucket drops to the ground.

I grip my stomach, laughter escaping my lips as Newt squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a loud sigh. Shaking his arms, Newt murmurs indistinct complaints beneath his breath.

"Ar..are...y...you...o..okay?" I stammer in-between sniggers.

Newt cocks his head towards me, glaring. He begins waving his hands into the air, the water flying off in every directing. Placing my hand over my mouth, I try to choke back my laughter.

"Pffft!" A chuckle emerges from behind a pile of supply crates lining the hallway of the Homestead.

Newt shoots me a suspicious look, "Did you hear..."

"Yeah," I respond as Newt begins walking closer to the crates. Low whispers can be heard from the other side as I follow behind Newt, sneaking up to the boxes.

We crouch down at the crates as Newt mouths something to me, "One...two...three."

"Hey!" Newt shouts, water dripping from his face as he jumps behind the boxes.

Frypan and the Greenie jump up from behind them, their eyes bulging out of their heads. The Newbie shoots his arms into the air.

"I'm sorry!" Frypan blurts out, "I didn't think you'd be back from running yet."

Newt flares his nostrils, resting his hands on his hips, "Well I am!" He exclaims, his hair slipping back down over his face.

"I'll, uh, get you a towel." Frypan giggles, heading towards a rickety stairway at the end of the hall.

Newt tightly squeezes his sleeves, water droplets falling to the ground. Frowning, he crosses his arms. "Friends, right?" I say, patting his shoulder.

"What am I supposed to do now, Tammie?" He snaps, "I'm soaked! Can't ya help or somethin'?"

A sly grin slips across my face as I head towards the door, "Oh no, no, I gotta give the tour, remember? Gotta stick to the rules."

The new guy follows on after me, and both of us step out into the Glade.

"Hey, Tambles," Gally says, promptly emerging from behind one of the walls. A small smile lies across his face.

"Seriously, Tambles?" I respond.

Shrugging his shoulders, Gally runs his hand through his stump of hair, "Look, it convinced the Greenie. I think it suits you."

"Well, I don't." I huff; pausing for a brief moment, "Anyway, I gotta go give him the tour or whatever. Something about the last Greenie giving the new one the tour."

Gally puts his hand over his eyes, squinting from the afternoon sun. The new kid huddles up against one of the walls while fumbling with his fingers.

"Usually, unless some shank volunteers or the last Greenie's dead," Gally responds, the Greenie's eyes bulging at his statement.

"Who gave your tour?" I ask.

Gally sighs before continuing, "George."

"The guy in the Deadheads?" I ask enthusiastically, wincing for a moment, "Sorry..."

"It's fine, it ain't like we were that close." He says, the Homestead door making a loud creak as he slams it shut, drowning out the constant noise of Newt's complaints, "Him, Nick, and Alby were close, before he got himself stung anyway. The first shank to get stung, ain't the last."

"Nick, huh? Well, I better get started on this tour before dinner, or Newt will have my head on a platter." I reply, prompting the Newbie to amble over from the wall.

Beginning my walk, I turn from the Homestead and towards the Blood House. Its small image casts a shadow over the ground near it, shade surrounding the animal pens near-by. A soft wind carries the stench of fertilizer from the gardens. Gladers start to finish their jobs for the day, finishing off their projects. The Greenbie hobbles along beside me, dreary-eyed with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Tanya," Gally shouts from behind me.

"What?" I ask, twirling around.

Gally jogs up to me, his feet thumping against the ground, "I'll, uh, give him the tour if you want." He says while scratching the back of his head.

"Really?" I respond.

Gally lifts his eyebrows, "Yeah,"

"Ar...are you joking? I can't tell." I say.

He ruffles his brow, looking away for a moment, "No, I'll show the shank 'round."

Excitement bustles in Chuck's eyes as his jaw drops open, "Chuck! I remember my name! I'm Chuck!"


	15. Chapter 15: Helping Out A Friend

Exhausted, I rest myself against a rugged oak tree, sighing as I knock my head back against the rough bark. A blanket of leaves hovers above me, shading me from the beating sun. I slouch down to the forest floor, blades of grass prickling my legs as I release a loud sigh. A sudden flash of silver grabs my attention.

Beetle blades, Newt told me about them. Some of the Gladers suspect the Creators send them to spy on us, no-one knows for sure. Their small body and spindly legs make running an easy task, so catching one is next to impossible, but the red glow from their eyes makes identifying them an easy task. The beetle blade sprints away, disappearing into the Deadheads.

"Heya Tammie,"

I cock my head to the side as Newt lingers beside me, slouching against a tree, "Oh, hey Newt..." pausing for a second, I continue, "...did you need something?"

"Nah, just checkin' up on ya. You all right?" He asks, easing himself down to the ground.

"Well, I am trapped in a giant Maze, stuck with some maniac serial killer, with no memory of who I am apart from my name which is fun." I state sarcastically before continuing, "Seriously though, I'm actually pretty good, settling in quite well. It gets a little bit easier every day, you?"

Newt shifts his gaze towards the ground, then back up to the Maze walls, "Alrigh', I guess, but, uh, sometimes it just feels hopeless, ya know? Like there's no way out of here." Newt stops, a moment of silence filling the air.

He creases his brow slightly, taking in a shuddering breath, "You're a, uh, a really good friend, ya know that?"

"Thanks..." I respond hesitantly, "...are you okay? You seem a bit on edge."

"Yeah, uh, fine," he scoffs, "Just thought I should tell ya, never know when you'll get the chance." Pushing himself up from the ground, Newt clears his through while continuing, "Anyway, um, I should get back to work, see ya around, I guess."

"Yeah..." I say as Newt walks back over to the gardens. My eyes stay glued to him as he disappears into the distance. Suspicion lurks in the back of my mind, an unsettling shiver coursing through my veins.

Shoving the thought from my mind, I rise from the ground, heading towards the Homestead. It does not take long to arrive, considering how close the Deadheads are to the Homestead. Knocking back the rugged door, I step inside.

A smile flashes across my face as I notice the empty bucket lying on the floor, Fry and Chuck must have forgotten to move it after yesterday. The winding staircase makes a loud creak as Gally rushes down it, dashing towards the other door at the end of the hallway.

"Gally? What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he mumbles before bursting out the door. "Whatever..." I mutter as I waltz to the rickety stairs, climbing upwards.

A crack of light sneaks through a broken window at the end of the hall, which is about the same size as downstairs. A stained, white sheet drapes down from a couple of nails on a wall to the right, covering an empty doorway. I wrench it to one side, dust flying off and swirling through the air. Hammocks swing down from the roof, scattered randomly from the wooden beams above me.

Most of the Keepers sleep here at night, along with me and a handful of the runners. Alby stays in a different room though, benefits of being the leader I guess, but most of the Gladers sleep outside. I trudge towards my hammock at the far end of the room, throwing myself on top of it. Slowly sinking into the material, something digs into my back.

Reaching for it with my hand, I try to manoeuvre it from under myself, something like a frayed rope brushing against my fingers. I tug at it, pulling it out. A square of carved, ivory wood attaches to a circle of rope, tied off at one end. It looks to be hand-crafted, with deep grooves running through the wood in a unique pattern, the same as the Maze walls.

A necklace of the Maze? Who would...Gally. There are not many builders in the Glade, even less that I know, and the only one that just left the Homestead.

"Who gave you that?" Chuck asks in a teasing manner, suddenly appearing from behind one of the other hammocks.

I quickly stuff the necklace into my pocket, clearing my throat, "Doesn't matter, Chuck." Eager to change the subject, I continue, "Where'd you come from?"

"Oooh, Gally gave you that, didn't he?" He prys, rubbing his hands together mischievously.

I furrow my brow, "What?"

"I saw him come up here earlier, sneaking around..." He says, dramatically darting his eyes across the room.

Taken back, I scoff before continuing, "Sounds like you're the one whose been sneaking, Chuckie..." I pause for a second, "...speaking of, what exactly are you doing here?"

Letting out a puff of air, he sighs, slopping down on the edge of one of the hammocks, "Well, I was tryin' for the gardens, and Zart said he needs fertilizer, from the forest..."

"And?" I interject, not fully understanding what he is getting at.

Chuck continues, "...well, some of the others were saying that there's a monster or something out there, but if I don't go..."

"...then you'll probably end up in the slammer for slacking off. So you want me to get it?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, "Fine, I guess."

"Really?" Chuck's face lights up with excitement, "Thank you!"

This is the last favour I am doing for Chuck, next time he can get his own fertilizer. This place gives me the creeps. With the sun beginning to fade, darkness starts to blanket the ground. Ducking beneath the overhanging branches, I spot the fertilizer pile in the distance. Quickening my pace, I proceed to make my way over.

I jolt my muscles to a stop, freezing in place. A shadow lurks in the trees, unmoving. I step closer, wincing with every step. My stomach churns as I approach, a rope hanging from the boy's neck. I dash towards him, covering my mouth and nose with my hand. Taking a final breath, I look up to the boy's face.

_Newt._


	16. Chapter 16: Newt

"Newt," I whisper beneath my breath. He hangs from the bough, lifeless. Veins pop from his sickly, pale arms, riddling his body. Purple bruises grip his neck from the rope. His cold stare freezes me in place as if somehow accusing me. A lump forms in my throat, an intense burning sensation rising in my chest.

"Newt?" I ask, choking back tears. My lungs rapidly rise and collapse, making it difficult to breathe. My body moves a step closer as I clench my jaw tightly. His glazed eyes stare into me. My heart-beat heightens, increasing every second. Adrenaline floods my veins, kick-starting my brain. Panic surges through me, adrenaline pumping through my body, racing through my bones.

"Newt!" I shriek, my raw voice tearing as I scream his name. I throw my hands around the rope. My fingers frantically tear at it, pulling the knot apart. His body hits the ground with a loud thud. "No, no, no..." I stutter, my knees collapsing to the ground.

"Help! Some-somebody, help!" I cry as loud as possible, scrambling over beside him. I reach for his hand, squeezing it as hard as I can. Tears flood my eyes, and blood rushes to my cheeks. The noise of shouting drowns out in the back of my mind, muffled voices echoing through the Deadheads. I cradle his head in one arm while holding his hand with the other. "Please Newt..."

His hand twitches, ever so slightly, but it is there. "Help, we're over here!"

"C'mon Newt, just hold on, y-you can hold on," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut.

"What happened?" Footsteps shuffle behind me. Alby kneels beside him, and checks for a pulse, "We need to move him, now!"

A handful of Gladers circle around Newt, one of them grabbing his legs. Alby reaches for his shoulders, wrapping his hands around Newt's arms.

"Quickly!" He says, the other boy and him running as fast as they can. I run beside them as they manoeuvre through the trees, and towards the Homestead.

Jeff dashes out of the med-bay, directing the others inside. "Stay here!" He says, sternly pointing at me.

"I-" My voice trails off, with no words forming. I take a shuddering breath, trying to focus.

"What's going on?!" Gally snaps as he emerges from behind me, flailing his hands into the air.

"I-it's Newt, he-" I stutter, wincing for a moment, "I-I don't know i-if-"

Gally's expression softens, his brows furrowing, "Will he be okay?"

I shake my head. Tears brim in my eyes, streaming down my face, "I-it feels so strange, Newt is one of my only friends, but I don't even know the first thing about him." I pause for a moment, "I just never asked, and now I-I might not get the chance."

I stifle a sob, burying my head into my hands. His arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling my head into him, "He'll be fine, the tough shank that he is."

"Who would do this?" I ask, my throat still hoarse. I wrap my arms around him, muffling the sound of my crying.

The loud crash of a door slamming open startles me. Some Gladers begin to stumble out of the med-bay, Winston pushing past a couple of them. A moment later, Jeff walks out, a white towel hanging from his arm.

"What happened?" I ask eagerly, "W-will he be okay? I can help, just tell me what you need me to do."

He takes a big sigh, wiping a band of sweat from his forehead, "It's a bit early to say, yet. The best thing you can do is to stay here. But, erm, there's something you should know..."

Jeff starts fidgeting with his fingers, scanning his surroundings before continuing, "...look, we all heard the screaming, nothing strange in that, but I saw who all were going in the Deadheads."

"Just spit it out, shank," Gally interjects.

He rubs his head, hesitantly continuing, "We all saw who went into the Deadheads, Zart, Alby, Bill, a couple of others. Point is, someone else came out after, and he didn't go in." Jeff pauses, leaning in closer, "What I'm trying to say is, someone was already in the Deadheads before you found Newt."

"Who?" I ask firmly.

"Nick." He stops momentarily, "I'm only saying this in-case he might have seen something, I ain't accusing anyone here."

"What happened?!" Minho shouts, his voice ricocheting off the Maze walls. Anger flushes over his face, desperation riddling his tone.

Jeff waves his hands around, seemingly in an attempt to calm Minho, "It's Newt, don't worry, he's still alive."

"What do you mean he's still alive?! What did you do?!" Minho charges at him, wrenching the collar of Jeff's shirt.

"Wha-I didn't do anything! Someone tried to kill him, you're lucky he survived at all!" Jeff squirms, Minho reluctantly releasing his grip. Much quieter, he continues, "Is he okay?"

Jeff straightens out his shirt, flicking dirt from off the sleeves, "I don't know yet, but he's unconscious at the moment. If you don't mind, I'll be going back to check on him."

Jeff heads back into the med-bay, muttering complaints beneath his breath. Minho turns towards me, a glint of a tear in his eyes, "Who did this?"

"I have a guess..."


	17. Chapter 17: Why?

A million questions run rampant in my mind, bustling through my brain. I grit my teeth together, forcing myself to focus. An emptiness settles in my stomach. A piece of me wants to stay with Newt, but there is nothing to do there. I trudge towards the Homestead, forcing a stern expression on my face.

Nick leans against one of the walls, staring into the distance. Dried sweat stains the back of his shirt, dirt coating the rest of it. His dark hair ends above his shoulders. A grim expression lies over his pale face.

"Hey, you!" I shout over to him, jogging to the Homestead, "What did you do to him?"

"Look, lady, I don't know what you're talking about." He remarks, shrugging his shoulders.

I scoff, pulling up beside him, "Don't play dumb with me. What were you doing in the Deadheads?"

"The same thing as everyone else, why don't you go and bother them?" He says sarcastically.

"I know you were in the Deadheads before that," I state, my eyes glued to his face, searching for a reaction.

He ruffles his brow, "Wait, you don't think that I tried to kill him, right?"

"Did you?" I ask.

"No!" Nick says while shaking his head, "Why don't you stop wasting my time?" He snaps, flailing his arms into the air.

"Then, what were you doing?" I say with an annoyed tone.

Nick thrusts himself off the wall, peering over me. I hold my gaze, not daring to waver. He clenches his jaw, tensing his neck muscles, "Stay out of it."

Nick breaks his stare, pushing past me. I curl my hands into fists, resisting the urge to go after him. He is not going to say anything more, not yet anyway.

Alby stumbles out of the med-bay, insight from where I am standing. He rubs his head, letting out a loud sigh. Minho and Gally are still waiting outside. I start to walk over while getting within earshot.

"Any news?" Minho asks, his eyes darting from side to side. His usually calm demeanour evaporates.

Alby shakes his head, his face void of emotion, "Nothing yet."

Minho slams his fist into the med-bay wall, sharply exhaling. "I'm going to kill whoever did this!" A stray tear runs down his face before quickly being wiped away.

"Get in line," I mutter, sitting down on the ground. An intense silence falls over everyone. Minho slumps down to the ground, burying his face inside his arm. Gally ambles away, while Alby stares at the ground, as if in his own world.

"He'll be fine," I chant to myself, engraining the words into my brain. Stares from people across the Glade bore into us, each one is as curious as to the next.

A loud slam captures my attention. The med-bay door swings open with Jeff rubbing his hands together as he walks out.

I push myself off the ground. Minho darts up, eagerly anticipating Jeff's words.

"He's gonna pull through," he says, wiping his forehead with a towel, "He's awake, but uh, I wouldn't advise seeing him yet, he's still quite weak."

A flood of relief washes over me. I release a shuddering sigh, steadying my legs as I stand.

Jeff comes closer to me, "I could use your help tidying up in there if that's okay?"

"Anything, " I blurt out.

Minho runs his hand through his hair, propping himself against a wall. Jeff strides to the med-bay while I follow behind. The floor creaks with each step as we enter the room.

A broken oil lamp lies smashed on the ground beside a fallen table. The shattered glass crackles beneath my boots, oil sticking to the sole. Clutter covers the floor around a bed nearest the door. Fading sunlight creeps in through the window, hovering over Newt.

I bit down on my lip, a chill running down my spine. A ragged blanket rests over him, partly falling off the bed. High-pitched wheezing bounces off the walls. A circle of blood seeps into the pillow, trickling down from his ear. He stares at the wall, his eyes glistening from the dim light.

Jeff's hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me from my daze.

"C'mon," he whispers while moving towards the wreckage on the floor. I peel my eyes away, leaning down to the ground. My hands fumble around the broken lamp as I place it on a nearby table. Jeff starts picking up bandages and gauze pads and throwing them on the table. I kneel down against Newt's bed, reaching out for a vial of ointment.

"Why?"

Barely audible, a raspy voice emerges from Newt. Jeff lifts a bucket from beside the bed, leaving the room.

"Are you okay?" I ask, sitting at the edge of his bed. He struggles to take in a large breath, tilting his head to me. Red streaks shoot across his eyes, tears brimming in them. Pity swells inside me, a sadness wrenching my gut.

Gulping down a dry cough, Newt continues, "Jeff said you found me, got help-" Immediately, he turns, retching into the bucket beneath. He spits, wiping his mouth before continuing, "-how did you find me?"

"I don't know, I just saw you," I answer, somewhat baffled, "Do you know what happened?"

He momentarily shuts his eyes. Newt shifts his gaze away, nodding his head.

"Did Nick do this to you?" I inquire, "I know this is hard, but if you remember anything, even a small detail, it could really help find whoever did this. Maybe-"

"I did it,"

Newt snaps, the words slowly sinking in. "What?" I stutter.

He lets out a shaky breath, cocking his head back to me, "There was no-one else, Tanya, because I did it, alone."

His words echo through my mind, like an ache in my brain. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

"Why?" I croak, a hard lump rising in my throat.

He looks around the room, continuing, "I couldn't do it anymore, every day just being another reminder that we're trapped here," He pauses, hesitating, "with no way out."

"You can't give up, Newt. You're what keeps everyone together." I say.

Newt sniffs, smearing his hands over his face, "You should've just let me die."


	18. Chapter 18: Another Greenie

**FOUR WEEKS LATER:**

Gladers bustle into the canteen, clamouring together. Dashing to the back of the line, I wait eagerly anticipating breakfast. At first, nothing seemed worse than a meal from Frypan, but now nothing seems to taste better, even Chuck's renowned sandwiches cannot compare.

"Hurry it up, Princess,"

A voice scoffs from behind, bringing me out of my daze. I shuffle forward, getting closer to the front.

"Watch it, Drew!" Gally snaps from in front of me. A small smirk rises on my face.

"Next," Frypan shouts.

I plod to the front, handing him an empty bowl.

"What are you grinning at?" He jokingly remarks. A heaped ladle of porridge lands into my bowl, sloshing over the sides.

"Nothing..." I mutter, gnawing at my lip.

Chuck drops a bubbling pot of food beside him. The kid sighs, wiping his forehead. Fry hands him a wooden ladle, "Don't let it go cold, Greenie."

Chuck nods, promptly serving up the porridge. "Doesn't cook too bad for a Greenbean," I remark while reaching for my bowl.

"You should'a seen the mess he made earlier." Frypan scoffs, "Nah, he does a good job, but he talks a lot."

"I can imagine," I say, grabbing my breakfast and a spoon.

A spare seat lies at the end of one of the tables. I saunter towards it, sitting down on the bench adjacent to the table.

Endless chattering erupts from a Glader beside me, half-chewed food flying out of his mouth. Tilting my head away, I scan the area for familiar faces.

Jeff waves from over at another table, a cheesy grin riddling his face. I nod back whilst continuing my search. Minho sits over with a couple of the other runners, Newt slumping in a seat near-by him. Even from this distance, green and yellow bruises still cover his neck, slowly fading. I clench my jaw, immediately shifting my gaze down to the table.

"You alright?" Gally asks from beside me.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," I mumble, sticking my spoon into my bowl.

Gally eyes me suspiciously, "Don't look it."

I sigh, releasing a large puff of air, "I-it's Newt. Ever since-what happened, happened, things haven't been the same."

He raises his eyebrows as if expecting me to elaborate.

"Whenever I see him, i-it reminds me of..." I crunch down on my teeth, cocking my head to the side, "...when I found him. I just can't get that image out of my head."

Gally frowns while shrugging his shoulders, "It'll be fine, ain't nothing to worry about."

"Thanks...I think." I respond, shoving in a mouthful of porridge.

"Hey, guys!" Jeff remarks. He squashes up between Gally and another guy, "I just thought I'd come by and say hello!"

"Hello," Gally groans, mockingly impersonating him.

Jeff rolls his eyes before continuing, "Oh, uh, Tanya, don't forget about the supplies coming up today, you better not run off, again."

"Yeah..." I say guiltily.

Jeff's eyes widen, excitement dazzling his face, "What do you suppose the new Greenie'll be like?"

"The new Greenie?" Gally asks, just as confused as me.

Jeff quickly nods his head, "Yeah, don't you remember? Every month a newbie comes up."

"It's that day already?" I groan, rubbing my eyes.

"Forget about that day, it's that time. The box should be arriving any minute." Jeff says. Just as the words leave his mouth, the alarms blare, ringing across the Glade.

Gladers begin to rise from their seats, murmuring to each other as they walk towards the elevator. I follow, excitement bustling through me. Sadness soon quenches my happiness, the thought of having another friend turns to the dread at the prospect of someone else being stuck here.

I push the thought from my mind as I approach the lift. The metal doors come into view as I squeeze through the throng of Gladers. The distant cranking of the elevator is barely audible over the whispers of the others.

Chuck stands beside me, his short stature making him almost unnoticeable. He stares at the doors, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I ask, stooping down to his eye-level. He shakes his head, his gaze still fixed to the lift.

"It reminds you of when you came up, doesn't it?" I inquire. He nods in agreement, a small tear trickling down his face. I stand up, placing my hand on his far shoulder. He burrows his head into my side. Shocked, I hesitantly pat his head, a swell of pity rising inside me.

A piercing screech comes out from behind the doors, getting louder with each passing second. Gally strides up to them, tightly gripping one of the handles. The doors rattle, followed by the noisy sound stopping.

One boy from the front of the crowd breaks the silence, shouting for Gally to open it. His eyes land on me, promptly being torn away as he looks back down to the doors. Nick grabs the other handle. They tug at the handles, causing the hatch to swing open.

A shadowed figure lies in the corner of the box, blocked from my view. The cage shakes as Gally jumps inside, propelling the boy out of the box.

He scrambles to his feet. Dark hair sticks to his forehead, shining in the sunlight. His brown eyes fearfully dart across the group. Sweat drenches his shirt, sticking to his toned body. Some of the Gladers snigger, other teasingly spook him.

Shoving past them, he bolts through the group, sprinting towards the East Gate. Cheers emerge from behind me. Leaving Chuck, I jog after him along with Newt and Alby.

Immediately, he trips, tumbling to the ground. Zart snorts beside me, followed by some gladers scoffing. He forces himself off the ground, his mouth draping open when he sees the Maze walls. The crowd of boys wander over to him.

"Thought you could leg it, did ya?" Newt remarks with his stark accent showing.

"W-what did you do to me? Why can't I re-remember anything?" He asks, his voice trembling with every word.

"It's okay...just...calm down," I state, "...none of us can."


	19. Chapter 19: Footprint

Sweat dampens the palms of my hands, the afternoon sun mercilessly beating down on me. Beads of water roll down my face before falling to the boxes beneath me. A constant ache burns in my arms, inching its way up to my shoulders. Heaving in breaths, I sit down on the soft grass, propping myself against the supply crate.

A cool breeze relieves me, brushing against my skin. I glance down, admiring the necklace Gally made me not long ago. My eyelids slowly begin to close. Dreariness sweeps over me, everything fading to darkness.

"Shift it, Tanya, we got work to do!"

Startled, I jolt forward, peeling my eyes open. Jeff hovers over me, silhouetted from the sun behind him, "B-but I just moved loads of boxes, now you want me to do more?"

"You lifted three boxes," He says, raising his brows.

I nervously scratch the back of my head, "I-it felt like more."

"Mmm-hmm," Jeff hums, "Don't forget to bring that one to the med-bay." With that, he walks away to the Homestead.

I lean my arm against the crate, pushing myself off the ground. My hands wrap around the sides as I pull the box up. The weight tugs at my arms, but I trudge through, determined to get to the med-bay.

As I approach, a high-pitch voice speaks from behind me, Chuck's voice, "...it's not that bad, once you get used to it."

I promptly turn around. Chuck lingers beside the new guy as he walks past me.

"Just...leave me alone." He says, running to the Deadheads. Chuckie races after him, his curly hair bounces up and down in the wind.

I inch my way closer to the med-bay, putting down the box. The medical crate drops with a loud thud. An exasperated sigh escapes my lungs, a sense of pride filling me at the finished task. I dab my sleeve against my face, soaking up the moisture on it. Drowsily, I begin walking over to Chuck and the Greenie.

After a couple of minutes, I arrive within earshot.

"What is this place?"

The new guy's voice wavers as he speaks. A grim expression lies over his face, sadness lurking behind his eyes.

"Don't really know..." Chuck murmurs, shrugging his shoulders.

The newbie grips his fists, tightly gripping his jaw, "What does that mean, 'you don't know?"

"He means we don't know, none of us do. Why we're here, or who put us here? Nobody knows, the only thing I do know is that we're stuck, here, in a giant Maze with seemingly no way out, no end, and no escape." The last words linger on my tongue, slowly sinking to my stomach as I stand beside Chuck.

He furrows his brow as if still processing the words, "Wait, I don't-understand, what maze?"

I bitterly scoff, pointing to the walls, "This whole place, it's a maze. What do you think those walls are? Inside it's just, miles of corridors. The runners, they map it out, look for an escape."

"Have they found one?" He asks, his words laced with hope.

I shake my head. Eager to change the topic, I continue, "Enough of that, how are you holding up? I hope Chuck isn't bothering you too much."

Chuck's eyes widen as if somehow offended. The Greenie cocks his head to the side, his gaze wandering towards the Deadheads. Immediately, his eyes bulge in shock while dropping his jaw, "What's that?"

I turn, following his line of sight, "What is wha-"

My voice trails off, disappearing entirely. A body swings from one of the trees, its outline barely visible, "Chuck, erm, you need to, uh, you need to get Alby, now. Get him now!"

"It's Isaac,"

Jeff's voice quivers as he utters the words, covering the dead boy's face with a piece of cloth. Two other boys reach for the stretcher and begin to carry him away. My eyes drop down to the ground, purposefully avoiding the sight.

A deep impression delves into the forest floor near the body, a footprint. Other shoe impressions circle it, but nothing as stark as this one. Something has weighed down whoever that was, or someone; the killer.

Leaning in closer, I examine the footprint more closely. To my surprise, the tread is unique, unlike the standard shoe that I received when I arrived. Criss-crossed lines run across the print, like that from a fancy trainer, or sneaker. The killer could be a runner.

I step back, leaning against a nearby tree, my mind racing with possibilities. My heartbeat quickens as I finally receive the first proper clue. A real chance of catching the killer soon sinks into my brain.

Thomas and Chuck soon appear in front of me, Chuck waving his hand across my face, "Tanya?"

"Guys, look at this!" I point towards the footprint, "I think it belongs to the murderer."

The Greenie's eyes bulge out of his head, "Whoa, hold on, what murderer?"

"Oh, yeah, on top of being trapped in a Maze, there's also a homicidal maniac killing people. Did I forget to mention?" I respond sarcastically before continuing, "Anyway, it looks a lot like a runner's shoe..."

Chuck promptly interrupts, "Pity we can't just search their rooms or something, sounds quicker than asking Alby, that's for sure."

I bit my inner lip, "We couldn't just..."

"No..." Chuck responds hesitantly.

"It's not like we're breaking in, I mean, it's for a good cause!" I answer.

The new guy's face quickly turns sour, "Wha-you can't just-"

I roll my eyes, "Look, Greenbean, we're trying to catch a killer here, so are you in, or are you out?"

He cocks his head to the side as if considering, "I'm in."


	20. Chapter 20: Breaking and Entering

"Uh, guys, are you sure this is a good idea?"

The Greenie inquires, a worried look dabbling his face. Chuck playfully slaps his shoulder, "It'll be fun!"

I disdainfully shake my head, scoffing as I reach for the door handle. Here is where the runners sleep. If one of them is a killer, hopefully, there might be some clues in here.

The Newbie shuffles from foot to foot, fumbling with his hands, "I think we would go, the sign says runners only."

My gaze rises to the sign above the door. 'Runners only' is deeply engraved in the wood.

Chuck smirks, "It'll be fine, loosen up a bit, Greenie. We're not gonna get caught."

"Famous last words," the new guy mumbles, hesitantly following as I enter the room.

Stagnant air combined with musty sweat fills the large room. Several rugged beds are scattered around the floor. Small tables are stationed at the side of each bed. A stream of light pours in through an open window at the other side, revealing speckles of dust floating in the air.

"See if you can find anything that might be important," I say, heading towards one of the bedside tables.

Chuck begins to rummage through one of the tables. He eagerly pops his head up, holding a bottle of hair spray, "Ha! So that's how Minho gets his hair like that. Do you think he'd mind if I borrowed some?"

"Yes, I think he would, Chuckie. Remember, we're not here to be noisy, or steal hair spray." I respond, rolling my eyes.

The Greenie nervously shuffles beside me, "Um, I think someone's coming."

I pause, "Calm down, no-one is coming, the runners are out right now. Hardly anyone comes in the Homestead, don't worry about it."

My words have no effect on him as he paces back and forth, constantly looking at the door. After a couple of minutes, he moves over beside Chuck while I continue to search.

Someone walks outside the door, sounding through the hallway. We freeze in place. No-one moves a muscle, as if hoping whoever it is will go away. Another minute passes. Suddenly, it creaks again as the person leaves, gradually getting quieter and quieter.

The Greenie sighs with relief, Chuck grabbing his shoulder, "See? Told you we wouldn't get caught!"

I squint at him, "Eh, I'm pretty sure I said that."

"Whatever..." He shrugs.

Instantly, the door flings open. My heart almost jumps out of my chest. Newt saunters in, his eyebrows raised.

Chuck chuckles, "We were just...erm...looking for...uh...the thing..."

Newt's face remains the same, unamused, "Slammer. Now."

"I told you it was a bad idea," the Greenie moans.

Chuck reaches his hands out of the bars of the slammer door, "Do you think we'll still get lunch? I'm starving, is anyone else starving?"

"Now that you mention it..." I groan, the empty pit in my stomach vastly increasing. The thought of sandwiches lightens my mood, "...maybe Fry will bring us a snack."

The new guy crawls over beside Chuck and me, "Guys, are you even listening?"

"Yes, I'm listening. It wasn't that bad of an idea..." I mumble half-heartedly.

"Tanya?" Gally's voice booms through the Glade, echoing around us.

I scurry to the door, poking my hands through the bars, "In here!"

He jogs over to the hatch, furrowing his immense eyebrows, "What are you doing in there?"

He momentarily pauses, his expression turning sour as he notices Chuck and the Greenie, "And what's that slinthead Greenbean doing here?"

I sigh, combing my fingers through my hair, "It's a long story, but we sort of broke in somewhere. I know it sounds bad, but we didn't have a choice, we had to ca-"

"We? You friends with this shank?" He growls.

The Greenie curls his fists, "What is your problem?"

Gally's eyes flare with anger, "I'll tell you my proble-"

"Gally!" I snap, glaring at him, "Calm down! It's no big deal, we'll be out of here soon enough. Now, why were you looking for me?"

He stops for a moment, his bitter scowl softening, "Jeff wants to speak with you, sounded important."

"Why couldn't Jeff just come himself?" I question.

He scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing a bright red, "Uh, yeah, that was, well, he was, uh...busy,"

A slight smirk rises on my face. Eager to change the subject, he continues, "I'm gonna see if them shanks'll let you out of the slammer."

Nodding, I sink back down to the ground as he runs back to the Homestead. The Greenie scrunches his nose, wrinkling his forehead, "You like that guy?"

"He's not that bad once you get to know him, trust me." I sigh, cuddling into a corner of the room.

Chuck's voice reaches a tone higher than I thought was possible, "Wait, you're admitting it? You like Gally?"

I slap my forehead, "You two are the worst, you do realize that, don't you?"

Immediately a joyous smile stretches across the Greenie's face, "Guys! I remember my name! I'm Thomas!"

Thomas leaps to his feet, banging his head into the metal roof above him. A burst of laughter escapes my mouth. Rubbing the top of his head, Thomas winces, reclining back down again.

Chuck snorts as he reaches for his pocket. Pulling out a handful of sandwiches, he breaks it apart. Crumbs drop onto the floor as he passes Thomas and me one each, "Congratulations! I was gonna save this for later, but may as well have them now."

"You've had these the whole time?" I ask, nabbing the sandwich from his hands. Without delay, we begin to devour the sandwiches.

The metal hatch creaks as someone opens the slammer door, "C'mon out you bunch of slintheads."

Minho grabs my hand, hurling me out of the slammer. After getting the others out, he turns to me, "Jeff's in the Homestead so get your sorry butt over there before that Newt keeps you in here another day."

"Nice to see you haven't lost your charm, Minho," I remark.

He smirks whilst beginning to jog away, "See ya around, Shortie,"

"Shortie?" I mumble, my eyes shifting to Chuck, "Maybe he was talking to you..."

"You're resigning as a Keeper?"

Jeff stares into the distance, focusing on nothing in particular, "I can't do it anymore, with the bodies."

"I know that it is hard, but you can't just quit!" I plead.

He shakes his head, "You don't get it, you're new. It's not just random strangers for me, these are my friends. Who do you think was the med-jack before you?"

His words are laced with pain. In a wavering voice, he continues, "I'm sorry, it's just too much."

I nod my head, "I understand."

Clearing his throat, he proceeds, "You'll be informed about your responsibilities and privileges. I've already told some of the others. As of tomorrow, you will be a Keeper."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. Without hesitation, Jeff walks away. Questions race through my mind. What are my responsibilities? Can I do them?

I exit through the door to the Glade, ambling towards the Deadheads.

After a couple of minutes, I arrive. Branches claw at me as I stumble into the forest. Steadying myself on a tree, I try to relax and think about what this new job will entail.

An exasperated sigh flows from my lungs. I slouch against the tree, running my hand through my hair.

A silent snap of a twig echos through the trees. Birds scamper away from the branches. I dart around. Something lurks behind the darkness of the trees. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, radiating around my body. My eyes search in all directions, but still, nothing.

I lean my back against the tree, dreading to look behind it. I twist around, jumping in front of the tree. No-one is there. A flood of relief overwhelms me.

A glint of metal flashes before my eyes. Instantly, a sharp object tears at my flesh, crimson blood oozing from my stomach. Blood streams through my fingers as I fall backwards. Everything begins fading into black...


	21. Chapter 21: Scars

A chilling pain shoots up from my gut. My hands shake as I press them against me. Blood gushes from the wound, streaming through my fingers. The bleeding will not stop. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I collapse to the ground.

Distorted memories flicker through my mind. The images dissolve, gone before I can remember who or what they are. Everything disappears as it begins to fade to black. All warmth drains from my body. Cold clings to me, turning my hands numb.

Blood oozes from the wound, trickling down my side. Fear washes over me and the realization that this could be the end.

Inaudible voices echo around me. A hazy figure lurches in front. The blurred vision sharpens into focus: it is Thomas. The struggle to keep my eyes open intensifies as they begin rolling back into my head. The muffled sound of shouting disintegrates, withering to silence.

Shapes mash together, Thomas' face distorting. Another shadowed figure looms over me. Extreme pressure crunches down on the wound, excruciating pain rippling through my body. The words zone in and out, "Keep...pressure...on..it..."

Each time my mind drifts away, a shock of pain brings me back. Jeff pushes down on my abdomen, his face shifting into focus. My eyes fall back into the sockets. Hands curl around my arms, lifting me off the ground.

A shout knocks me awake. Disorientated, I manage to piece together some of the words, "Come on, Tanya, you can make it!"

I fight to stay awake, forcing my eyes open. Darkness surrounds me and hints of light flash that reveal more faces.

Seconds pass, then minutes. I drop onto something hard, a table. Everything and everyone darkens, my mind drifting asleep...

"Tanya?" A voice asks waveringly. Forcefully, I peel my eyes open.

"Thought we'd lost ya there, Tammie." Newt remarks.

I shift my gaze around the room. I am lying in the med-bay, Newt overshadowing me. Jeff viciously scrubs a table at the far corner of the room. Gripping my hands on the bed, I try to push myself up. Sudden pain in my abdomen forces me back down.

My body aches. The simple act of breathing causes pain surging through me.

"Wha-what happened?" I grunt, wincing from the pain.

Newt reclines to a chair beside the bed, "Was hoping you knew. You're lucky ya made it, Tommy found ya in a pretty bad way."

"I don't remember," I mutter while biting my inner cheek.

Newt leans in closer, his brown eyes staring at me as if somehow boring into my soul. With a stern expression over his face, he continues, "Are you sure you don't remember who did this to ya?"

"All I can remember is the pain, then blood, it was everywhere. I couldn't..." I pause, clenching down on my jaw, "...I didn't see who it was, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Newt says, stopping momentarily. A glint of sorrow rests in his eyes, "Some of us didn't think you were gonna...make it, not at first. I didn't know what to do, and then it occurred to me that, when I tried...to end it, I never thought about how it would change everyone. Our lives, they aren't always about us, they're about the people around us. I just want to apologize is all."

A soft smile rises on my face, immediately ripped away from the searing pain inside me. I sharply inhale, cold air brushing against my lungs. My grip tightens, slowly loosening as I try to relax, "It's okay, Newt."

"Anyhow, ya better get some rest, sure look like you could use it," Newt remarks, switching the subject.

My ribs ache as I poorly attempt to scoff. The wooden chair screeches against the ground. Newt steps up, limping towards the door. He waves before swiftly exiting.

The smile on my face wanes, turning to bitterness. I turn my trembling hands towards me. Dried blood clings to the nailbeds. I take a large breath before forcing myself to look at the wound.

A red stain soaks through a creased bandage clinging to my side. Crumpled tape sticks to the edges. My fingers fumble around it, carefully removing the tape and bandage.

Black stitches ripple through the surrounding red skin. A transparent fluid seeps from it. Hardened blood sticks to my skin. A deep gash penetrates my flesh, about an inch or two in circumference. An unsettling shudder overwhelms me. I quickly turn away, covering the wound back over.

Footsteps bang quickly against the wood outside of the door. Gally stands at the entrance. He gaps for air while pools of sweat stain his white shirt. Tensing his brow, he sprints over.

"Tanya," Gally exclaims, his voice surprisingly gentle. He drops down to the seat whilst immediately reaching for my hand. His fingers curl around mine, interlocking.

"Are you okay?" He asks as his tone turns sterner. His gaze meets my eyes, unwavering.

I shake my head, pursing my lips closed, "I was just standing there one second, and then the next..."

Immediately, I cock my head away, gazing at the covered wound. I squeeze Gally's hand tightly.

A loud sigh escapes him as he continues, "I should've been there."

"It's not your fault," I respond.

Gally creases his forehead, clenching his jaw, "Do you know what happened, or who it was that..."

His voice cuts off whilst leaving the sentence unfinished.

I crunch down on my inner cheek, a small trace of blood leaking into my mouth, "No,"

"When I get my hands on who did this-" He grunts as a large vein pops up in his neck pulsating rapidly.

"How are we going to find who did it?" I bitterly scoff, "There's nothing to trace back to them. What clues could we find? They couldn't take anything, I only have my clothes and-"

A thought instantly strikes my mind. I reach for my neck.

I cock my head to the other side, turning towards Jeff at the other side of the room, "Jeff, did I have a necklace when I came here?"

His eyes bulge as his eyebrows crease in confusion, "A necklace? No, why?"

Gally leans in, his face stern, "What are you thinkin'?"

Frazzled, I continue, "The, uh, necklace that you made me, I think the killer has it. I always wear it and it's not here. I didn't loose it, and it couldn't have fallen off. The killer must have it."

His expression turns to confusion. After a few seconds, he responds, "You-wear that?"

I sigh, "That's not the point, if we can find that necklace, we got the killer."


	22. Chapter 22: You?

"Come on, Tanya, you can do it!" Chuck cheers from a nearby chair, his encouragements only annoying me further. Each time I go to stand, a sharp pain thrusts me downwards. I sit back down on the bed again, "This is impossible! Are you sure I'm well enough to be walking yet?"

Jeff weakens his grip on my shoulders, resting me back down, "Yes, Tanya, you just have to try a little harder and fight through the pain!"

"Easy enough for you to say, Jeff, you didn't just get stabbed..." I complain, gritting my teeth together.

"Come on, Tanya, you can do it!" Jeff says as his arms tighten around my shoulders, "One last try,"

I wrap my arm around him, mustering all my strength. With a final push, I force myself upwards. A sudden pang shoots through my body. I fight through the pain, standing upright.

"You did it!" Chuck remarks, a hint of surprise in his voice. I chuckle, immediately cut off by a pain in my chest.

Jeff smiles as he mildly loosens his arms, "That's a great first step, quite literally, but you're not out of the woods yet."

The door swings open with Thomas lurking at the other side. His eyes dart across the room as if searching for something. Finally, Thomas shifts his gaze to me, "I thought you could use this,"

He pulls out something from behind him, a stick. Although primitive, the wood is thick and sturdy like that of a tree bough. Thomas lurches towards me, handing over the walking stick.

I grab the rounded handle, pointing the end towards the ground. Reluctantly, I lean some of my weight on it, but the strong wood holds fast.

Frantic shouting echos around the room, emerging from outside the door. Chuck and Thomas simultaneously shoot me a confused look, Thomas furrowing his brow, "What was that?"

Before anyone can respond, Jeff darts out of the room, leaving me to fend for myself. I clutch the walking stick firmly as I begin to shuffle towards the open door, "Looks like I'll be needing this stick after all,"

Each step further aggravates the searing pain in my side, but I trudge on, determined to make it to the other side of the door. As I exit the med-bay, another shout thunders across the Glade, this one discernable, "Gally, stop that right now!"

A throng of Gladers flocks around the Homestead, not far away from me. I waddle towards them, breaking through the crowd. Faces block my view of the centre as I continue through the group. Glimpses of movement soon come into focus, only encouraging me to push further into the crowd. I soon reach the centre, peering at the commotion.

A Glader, Nick, lies on the ground, his legs kicking in all directions. Gally kneels over him, curling his hands around Nick's neck, blood draining from his knuckles. Nick tugs at Gally's hands as his fingers pry around them. Newt and another boy desperately grab at Gally's shoulders, failing to pull him from the Glader. Nick's face flushes a deep red, his hands falling limply to his sides. Alby bolts through the crowd. He grabs Gally's shoulders, tearing him off the boy.

Alby, Newt, and the other boy wrench Gally away from Nick. With a loud thud, he falls to the ground, Newt and Alby's arms wrapped firmly around his.

"Just calm down, alright?" Newt says, his voice strained, "You good?"

Gally relaxes his muscles, spit flying from his mouth, "I'm fine!"

Alby shoots up from the grass. Dabbing his sleeve over his beaded forehead, he continues, "I told you I was going to handle this, Gally!" He cocks his head towards the Homestead, signalling to Newt and the other boy, "Get him outta here!"

My mouth gapes open, shock settling over me, "Gally?"

"You should've let me kill him," Gally growls as he shrugs off Newt and the Glader, his eyes fuming with rage. The crowd separates as Gally heads inside the Homestead.

The slam of the Homestead door snaps me out of my daze. I limp over beside Newt, leaning heavily on my crutch, "What's going on?"

Newt shakes his head, disdainfully crossing his arms, "We found your necklace on him."

"Who?" I ask.

He points towards Nick, "Nick, then Gally went all berserk on him, trying to kill him and all that."

Nick coughs violently, spluttering over the ground. Drool pours from his mouth as he heaves for breaths.

Alby pulls him by the scruff of his neck before tossing Nick back down to the ground, "Throw him in the slammer!"

"I didn't do it!" Nick protests, his voice still hoarse. Two Gladers begin taking Nick to the slammer.

Instantly, blaring alarms echo across the Glade, ringing through my ears. Red lights flash, illuminating over beside the box. This cannot be right. The box just came up a couple of days ago.

Newt gives me a strange look, just as confused as I am. Alby sprints towards the box, followed by a group of Gladers. I hop over on my walking stick which is significantly slower than running.

Arriving at the box, I peer at the door as if somehow willing it to open. Silence looms over the crowd, everyone awaiting what is to come. The squeaking of the elevator shafts gets louder and louder.

Suddenly, the box stops. Newt steps to the doors, tugging them open. Light bursts into the elevator, dust lingering in the air. I lean close to one of the doors. Someone lies in the centre, crates and boxes encircling them. Glimpses come into focus, but from where I stand, all that is visible is a vague outline of a person.

Murmuring erupts from the others, whispers bouncing from one person to the next. Newt anchors his hands to the edge, dropping himself into the box. He jolts backwards, shifting his gaze to the crowd, "It's a girl."

️ **Author's note**: Near Christmas, I will be doing a special chapter. The chapter will include Tanya and the Maze Runner characters in a short Christmas story. This will be released God willing at around a week before Christmas as an early present. Have a great New Year and God bless! 🍪


	23. Chapter 23: Benefits

"She's the last one, ever," that is what the note said, the very note the new Greenie came up the box with, curled in her small hands. I did not know what it meant, but neither did the others. Maybe there would be no more Greenies, no more people, no more supplies. Who was to say?

If only she could tell us, that is, if she woke up. Ever since arriving, the Greenie fell into a coma. Before that, all she said was, "Thomas," creating more confusion.

Alby charged Jeff and me with her care. Even now she is asleep, her shoulders rising and sinking with each breath. She was presumed dead when the Gladers laid eyes on her, for her skin was deathly pale.

Jet black hair drapes over her shoulders. Blood drains from her cheeks, giving her an ashen complexion. Even in a coma, she remains still, the only movement being as she breaths. Questions course through my mind. Who is she? What changed, and why is she here?

The door swings open, creaking as it turns. Gally's face pokes through the doorway, his hand gripping the wooden door.

"Hey you," I remark as he enters the room. A small smile rises on his face, barely visible in the dim light.

"She's still out if that's what you are here for," I say, "a coma will do that to you."

Gally nods his head as if unaware of what I had just said. "Are you okay? I saw what happened...earlier."

He furrows his brow, cocking his head to the side.

"With Nick," I repeat whilst running my hand through my hair.

Gally nods. "He had it coming," he says, shrugging his shoulders before continuing, "I'm...glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if..."

Blood rushes to my face. I can only imagine it turning bright red. I open my mouth to speak, but no words form. He shifts his gaze to the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I..." my voice trails off, fading into silence. Our eyes meet, my gaze locking into his. Neither of us speaks, a moment of euphoria freezing me in place.

I take a step closer. His deep, brown eyes stare deeply into mine. Gally's hand combs through my hair as my face drifts closer to his.

Immediately, the door flings open. Thomas bursts through the doorway, his eyes widening.

"Thomas!" I state before he can say anything. "What are you doing here?"

He pauses, his mouth gaping open, "Yeah...uh...Alby wanted to talk to you or something..."

"Right," I mumble whilst scratching my forehead. Turning to Gally, I suppress a smile. "I'll see you later, then?"

He nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I grab my crutch and head towards Thomas, exiting the med-bay.

We start trudging towards the Homestead. After a brief moment of silence, Thomas begins to speak, "So, you and Gally..."

"Yep," I respond, keeping my answer short.

Thomas continues, "...kissing."

I release an exasperated sigh. "You did barge in right before."

_"What?"_ Chuck exclaims while sprouting up from behind us. "You and Gally kissed?"

"We did not kiss!" I respond, groaning in frustration.

Shaking his head, Thomas glares at Chuck. "Where did you even come from?"

Chuck rolls his eyes. Ignoring the question, he cuts in front of Thomas and me. "Where are we going anyway?"

"Here," I answer as we approach the Homestead.

Thomas opens the front door. "Hey, any news on the new girl? Is she gonna be okay?"

I shuffle through the door, Thomas and Chuck following behind, "Honestly, I don't know. She sleeptalks a bit, but, no real sign of improvement, or if she'll wake up."

Thomas nods, his face gloomy. "Um, well, Alby's in the last room down the hall. He says he just wants to talk to you."

Chuck bursts up the stairs, gone almost instantly. Thomas turns to say something, "Hey, I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Thomas," I reply as I glance down the hall.

Thomas nods, leaving back through the door.

Leaning on my crutch, I stagger down the hallway. Sunlight creeps through a window at the end, guiding my way down the hall. An iron lock hooks over the handle on the last door, presently unlocked. I push through the door, Alby greeting me at the other side. "Ah, you're here."

The room is unfamiliar, crates decorating the far corner of the room. Dust lingers in the air, only visible by a glimpse of light from a shaft near me. Boxes of weapons line the walls. Trainers and leather boots lie scattered in an open container, runner's trainers, the same as the bootprint I discovered at the last body site.

Alby leans against a tall table centred in the room. His face remains solemn, unmoving as I approach. "You wanted to see me?"

He lowers his brow. "Yes, there's a couple of things I wanted to tell you." He momentarily pauses. "First was you're being a Keeper, and what that means. Next was about Nick, but no interrupting."

Before I can respond, he continues, "Jeff should've given you the main rundown on basic things, but I'm more saying about Gatherings, you know, Keeper meetings and things. Not much to know, say turning up for them and the benefits."

"Benefits?" I question.

He leans back from the table. "Yeah, benefits. You're already sleeping in the Homestead, but there's still the stuff here. All the Keepers get it; shoes, clothes, weapons even, them and the Runners that is. You can also request stuff to the Box, but it ain't for luxuries and the like."

"Keepers can have running shoes too?" I ask, immediately cutting myself off, "Sorry, no interrupting."

Ignoring my remark, he proceeds to speak, "Nick will be getting banished in a couple of days..."

"Wait, wasn't there a Keeper's meeting?" I interject.

He rolls his eyes, rubbing his head. "What'd I say about interrupting? There already was, but with him, you know, stabbing you and all, I thought maybe you voting wasn't the best idea."

My eyes bulge, surprised at his rashness.

Alby sighs as he continues, "Look, what I'm getting to saying is, you can see him if you want. I wasn't for it, but Newt and the lot said about closure and all. We agreed to let you decide yourself."

"See him? He tried to kill me!" I snap.

Alby's face remains the same, unfazed at my outburst. "Look, do you want to see him or don't you?"

Part of me wants to forget about it all, to pretend nothing happened, but I cannot. I need to find out why he did this, even if it hurts.

After a long moment of silence, I respond, "Yes."

️ **Author's note**: Near Christmas, I will be doing a special chapter. The chapter will include Tanya and the Maze Runner characters in a short Christmas story. This will be released God willing at around a week before Christmas as an early present. Have a great New Year and God bless! 🍪


	24. Chapter 24: Nick

"Tanya, hold up!" Thomas hollers from across the Glade, his words echoing from the walls.

Halting in my tracks, I turn towards him. "What?"

He jogs beside me, sweat beading over his forehead. As he pants, Thomas begins to speak, "Newt said to talk to you about a job trial, something about trying for med-jack?"

Reluctantly, I push forward, continuing my journey to Nick. "Just try it out for a day and see what you think, any day suits me fine unless you get a different job."

Thomas shifts his gaze to me. "I want to be a runner."

I lunge forward, chocking on the air. Clearing my throat, I stop in my tracks. "You _what?_"

"I want to be a runner!" Thomas repeats, his voice laced with enthusiasm.

Raising my brows, I roll my eyes. "It's not like there's a much choice. Runners are specially chosen from the best, Minho's not in the habit of getting the Greenies to do the job."

Thomas shrugs, furrowing his brow. A brief moment of silence falls over us.

Turning to Thomas, I begin to speak, "Give it a couple of months, work hard, ask Minho, then see what happens. That's about all you can do."

Arriving opposite the slammer, I stop, hesitant to approach. My hand automatically reaches to my side, tracing the outline of the wound.

Thomas glances to the slammer, his eyes freezing in place as if suddenly hit by a realization. "You're not seeing him, are you? Nick, I mean."

"Let's just say I didn't come all this way for the exercise, Thomas," I remark, lightly resting against my crutch.

Thomas' eyes widen immensely. He cocks his head towards the slammer door, then back to me. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I need to know why, or at least hear what he has to say. He's getting banished soon. I just don't want to have any regrets, or leave any stone unturned," I reply.

Thomas wrinkles his nose, casting his eyes around him. After a brief moment of thought, he continues, "Just be careful."

I wave my hand dismissively through the air. "I could say the same for you, Greenbean."

Thomas nods, squinting at the slammer before swiftly returning to the Homestead. Taking a deep breath, I amble towards the slammer door.

A dark figure lingers through the bars, Nick's outline barely visible. He approaches the cage door, covering his eyes at the sunlight creeping through the bars. He lowers his hands as he creases his forehead.

"What are you doing here? Come to gloat? Maybe ask why I did it?" Nick snaps, his arms crossed over his chest.

The light illuminated the blue and purple bruises lining his neck, presumably from Gally. Dirt clings to his skin, a putrid stench radiating off his sweat-stained clothes.

"Something like that," I mumble nonchalantly. Hatred or fear was the reaction I had expected from myself, but, seeing him like this, I don't feel anything.

Nick clutches the barred hatch as the blood drains from his knuckles. "I can't."

"You're getting banished either way, what's there to lose?" I ask.

Nick sighs, pushing himself off the bars. "I can't tell you because I didn't do it! I didn't stab you, and I didn't kill anyone!"

"Then who did?" I growl.

He pauses, his eyes meeting mine. A glint of recognition lies in them, quickly snatched away as he turns. Nick rubs the back of his neck as he paces around the room. "It's not like you'd believe me anyway."

I lean closer to the door. "Then give me a reason to."

Shaking his head, Nick retreats to the far corner of the room. "You're smart, right? Figure it out."

"Excuse me," a voice asks from beside me, unlocking the slammer door. He tugs at the latch as the door swings open. Another boy follows as they enter the cage. As one of the boys approaches, he begins to speak, "It's time, Nick."

I turn away, heading in the opposite direction. A crowd of Gladers gathers by the West Door. I stare down, my gaze unmoving from the ground beneath me. Is he telling the truth? Did someone plant my necklace? What if the killer is still out there? Nick will be banished soon, but who's to say if he did it?

Whatever the case, it's too late to turn back. I cannot stop what is about to happen, even if I did believe him. All I can do it tread carefully. If there's a possibility that the murderer is out there, he could be after anyone, if not me. He tried once before, who's to say that he wouldn't do it again?

I break through the crowd, pulled from my thoughts by the clamouring Gladers. Newt, along with the rest of the Keepers, stands by the West Door, his shoulders slouched.

Gally lingers beside him, nodding to me as I get closer. His hand clings to a slender, wooden pole. The other Keepers all have one, along with Newt and Alby. A collar of weathered leather drops down from the top of the poles.

Newt rests his pole against the Maze wall, jogging over beside me. A quick look of dread appears on his face before being quickly snatched away.

"Have you done one of these before? A banishment I mean." I inquire to Newt.

Newt glances down to the ground. "Couple of times. It's not pretty, but it's gotta be done, can't have it any other way. You'll have to do one eventually, but not today, with you still injured and that."

"Yeah..." I mumble, trying to spot anything over the height of the other Gladers.

A blanket of silence falls over the gathering, mere whispers the only sound that is made. Newt shuffles through the crowd and back towards the Keepers. Alby emerges from the center, his face solemn.

I scurry to the edge of the throng of Gladers. Two boys tug at Nick, leading him through the crowd. Nick stares at the maze doors, his gaze unwavering.

After a brief moment of quiet, Alby begins to speak, his voice booming across the Glade, "The Keepers have agreed that you, Nick, for the killings of Clint, Wyck, Billy, and trying to kill Tanya here, are to be banished from the Glade."

The two guys beside him shove Nick closer to the Keepers who are now in a semicircle. Nick pushes through the people, colliding with me before continuing. The Keepers grab the poles from earlier, fastening the leather collar around Nick's neck.

"Do you have anything to get of your chest?" Alby continues.

Nick refuses to speak, still staring out to the Maze. The doors thunder as the stone wheels begin to turn. I glance at the ground, taking a deep breath before looking back.

The Keepers dig their heels into the ground, forcing their poles into the Maze as the doors grind closer to shutting. Nick falls, scrambling inside the doors just before they slam together. A piercing shriek from a Griever ricochets off inside the Maze's winding corridors, sending a cold chill down my spine.

The crowd of Gladers disperse, silence lingering in the air. I hobble back towards the med-bay. Entering the room, I remove the bandage pouch and belt, tossing them onto the table. A scrap of folded paper falls to the floor. I furrow my brow, leaning down to collect it.

"Who are you?" a feminine voice asks from behind me. Cocking my head around, I turn towards the voice.

The new girl stands behind, her piercing gaze fixed on me. "What's happening to me?"

🔔 _**Quick reminder: Just letting y'all know that my next update should be the Christmas one! I'm very excited and I hope you are too. God willing, it will be released roughly the week before Christmas! God bless! **_🔔

❄️_**Greenie**_❄️


	25. Special Update

'Twas a cold winter night in the North Pole, snow beating on the outside of Santa's workshop. A strong wind howled outside the walls, but not even the harsh weather could dampen Tanya's jolly spirits tonight. This night was the night she had waited for all year, Christmas Eve. The whole year, her and Santa's other elves had worked hard, wrapping presents and preparing gifts, but tonight was the last night.

Tanya huddled into her chair, snuggling up beside the blazing hearth. Her hands clung to the hot mug of cocoa that was warmed by the fire. A pointed green hat rested on her head before being flicked from her eyes. A cheeky grin rose on her face as she slurped on her cocoa, gazing at the Christmas tree beside her.

Glimmering decorations adorned the tree. Candy canes hung from the boughs with golden bells swinging from the branches. She glanced to the top, her favourite decoration resting there, the star. The gold glittered in the light, dazzling with sparkles.

"Tanya, what are ya doing?"

Newt marched into the room, a scowl on his face. Tanya giggled at the sight, his pointed ears, lime green hat and fancy uniform that matched hers made it difficult to take him seriously. Newt frowned, "We're gonna be late!"

She squealed in excitement, eagerly rising from her chair. "Relax, we won't be late!"

Newt folded his arms. "We will if ya don't hurry up. The last batch of presents still needs to be loaded into the sleigh. If Santa Alby gets here and they're not ready, Christmas will be ruined!"

"Well, come on then!" Tanya exclaimed as she set down her cocoa and headed into the workshop room.

Newt and Tanya ran into the giant room. The familiar scent of wood and gingerbread lingered, only encouraging Tanya's excitement. Conveyor belts spat out gifts into stacks of presents piled up to the roof. Gold, blue, and silver wrapping paper covered the Christmas gifts, sparkling in the bright red and green lights. Jeff, another of Santa's elves, came to greet them.

"We're all set! All that's left is to make sure all the presents in the last stack are here, and then Santa's helpers will load them into the sleigh." Jeff said, checking off things on a crumpled sheet of paper in his hands.

Tanya mischievously rubbed her hands together as she approached the last stack of untagged presents. Leaning down, she and the other elves began to assign the presents.

After an hour or so, all the presents were done and each given a gift tag, an address, and had been logged on Santa's GPS. Newt plopped down to the ground, propping his arms on his knees. "Good work, everybody."

"Quickly, stand up, he's coming!" Jeff shouted, sending Newt shooting up from the ground. All the elves held their heads high, waiting for the present-wrapping overseer to arrive to make sure that everything was up to scratch.

All of a sudden, the door swung open, the overseer stepping inside. He eyed them suspiciously whilst going towards the presents, a golden bell on his hat chinkling with every step.

"Here's Santa's GPS log, Overseer Gally." Tanya chirped, handing him a tablet. Gally's expression softened as he took the tablet, a small smile rising on his face.

His eyes scoured the tablet. Instantly, his expression turned sour. "It's gone! One of the presents is gone! Someone has stolen a present!"

Newt scratched the back of his head, glancing around the room. "Just calm down, alright? It might just be lost."

"Lost? Presents here don't get lost!" Gally protested, placing his hands on his sides, "We must find it, or Christmas will be ruined!"

Tanya's heart sank, she had wanted this to be the perfect Christmas, but now it might be ruined.

The door opened again, a cold wind escaping through the crack. Tanya shivered as she shifted her gaze to the door.

Two of Santa's helpers jogged over to the elves, shaking the snow from off their hair. One of them went to speak, immediately cut off by the other, "Don't worry, I got this Minho," Thomas turns to Gally, "Are the presents ready to load into the sleigh?"

Gally's face fumed with anger, his eyebrows raised high. "No, Thomas, the presents are not ready! Someone has stolen the last present!"

"We must search inside the building! I shall go and check the stables," Tanya said.

Newt nodded firmly, "So will I! Jeff, you stay here and search. Everyone else can look around the rest of the workshop. We have to find it before Santa arrives for the last batch!"

Without any debate, everyone begins their tasks. Tanya unhooked a red, furry coat from the wall as she prepared to go outside. She tugged her hat further down on her head, grabbing a pair of leather boots from beside the door. Newt threw a coat on top of his uniform before opening the creaky door. Both the elves went through, the freezing snow pounded against them.

️

The blizzard blew around them. Tanya's boots sank deep into the snow, each step harder than the last. She wrapped the coat tightly around her, sheltering her from the snow. Through the strong winds, Newt spotted the reindeer stables. Without delay, the two elves hustled through the door and into the stables.

Warm lights shone on them, already melting the pile of snow on their heads. Tanya shivered before removing her coat and stumbling to the crackling fire at the other side of the room. An empty doorway led to where the reindeers slept, but this room was for Teresa.

Tanya held her hands near the flames, basking in the heat of the glowing flames. Newt wrenched off his hat, rubbing his hands together. "Teresa?"

"Yes?" a muffled voice shouted back. Teresa popped her head through the doorway, glaring at the new arrivals. "What are you doing here?"

Newt scratched the back of his head. "Looking for a lost present, don't suppose you've seen it?"

She pulled off a pair of antler ears, tossing them on a chair. "What? You think I stole it?"

Teresa shrugged, heading towards a stove near the fireplace. Pouring herself a hot cup of tea, she continued, "Feel free to look around, you won't find anything."

Tanya and Newt began searching the stables. Neither in the reindeer stalls nor Teresa's room could the present be found. After long last, they gave up, and with sorry hearts, they returned to Santa's Workshop.

Upon entering the workshop, something strange had occurred. The lost present lay in the centre of the room, untouched. Maroon wrapping paper and a silver bow covered it as the light bounced off the paper. Tanya and Newt gave each other a confused look, reluctantly approaching the present.

Newt bent down to the gift, lifting the label. "It says to...Chuck. This is it! It's the missing present!"

Tanya furrowed her brow, her mouth gaping in surprise, "How did that happen? We were just here!"

Tanya paused, squinting her eyes. "Wait...isn't Jeff supposed to be searching this room?"

The door to the living room swung open, slamming against the wall. Gally, Minho, and Thomas waltzed through as they entered the workshop. Gally and Thomas' bickering soon subsided as they spotted the present. Thomas ran over, grabbing the present before cradling it in his arms. "Is this it?"

Minho snatched the present, pulling at the label. "What else could it be?"

Gally brought out a checklist from his pocket, his eyes narrowing. Swiftly, he tugged at the presents, ripping it from Minho's grasp, "This is the missing present! Christmas is restored..." He paused, eyeing Thomas suspiciously, "...no thanks to you!"

"Wait, guys, why would the thief put it back?" Newt blurted.

Thomas rolled his eyes, "Who cares? All that matters is that we have the present!"

Minho folded his arms as he turned to Santa's other helper, "Of course it matters, slinthead."

"Whoever did this must be found..." Gally stopped, shifting his gaze to Thomas, "...and punished."

Thomas shrugged uncomfortably as he took the present and loaded it into the mini Santa sack on his back. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew in from the open door. Santa Alby sauntered inside, combing snowflakes from off his white, cotton beard.

"Alby!" Newt shouted, his face eager with excitement.

"It's Santa," Gally scowled.

Santa Alby stroked his long beard before gazing toward the elves, "Ho, ho, ho, what a cheery night it is! Is the last sack of goodies ready to depart?"

"Well, there was a small delay...but don't worry! We handled it...sort of." Tanya chirped in, fidgeting with her fingers.

Santa's eyes shot open. "A delay? Why? What happened to disrupt our present-giving?"

Jeff appeared from behind one of the present dispensers, his face dreary. His head sagged as his hands hung from his sides. "It's my fault. I took the present."

Endless chatter erupted from the elves, soon followed by Santa's helpers. Gally gasped, his eyebrows furrowed. "You!"

Santa hushed the crowd and began to speak, "What could be the cause for such an action?"

"I didn't know it belonged to someone! We always have spares!" Jeff protested.

Gally crossed his arms. "Well we didn't, did we?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I never get any presents! All year, I wrap and plan, wishing I could have a gift too. I didn't think anyone would mind if I took a spare present. Once I realized it belonged to someone, I put it back." Jeff responded, his voice soft.

Santa Alby creased his brow as if deep in thought. After a brief moment of silence, he began to speak, "I see, and I forgive you, as you are sorry, but this has brought to light a severe problem..."

Tanya turned to Newt, her eyes wary. What could he mean? Newt returned the glance, also wondering about what Santa would say.

Santa Alby pulled his hand over his ears before continuing, "...while I am grateful to you all, from the elves to the overseer to my very own helpers, it never occurred to me to reward you with presents. I can see now that I was wrong. I do believe we shall celebrate! I shall handpick presents and we shall have a proper Christmas Eve!"

Cheers erupted from the group. Those with hats tossed them into the air except for Gally, who had already spent enough time trying to get it to fit on his head.

"I can make cocoa!" Tanya exclaimed as she grinned from cheek to cheek.

"We'll find more presents!" Newt remarked, pointing to Jeff.

Thomas glared at Minho rolling his eyes. "Minho and I can make cookies."

"I'll join you," Teresa chimed, suddenly appearing beside Thomas.

Gally released an exasperated sigh. "I suppose I can make my eggnog...but someone better not take my cloves!"

Each helper took to their jobs, doing their part. Tanya took to the cocoa alongside Gally as he grouchily prepared the eggnog.

After an hour or so of preparation, everyone had completed their tasks. Warm drinks and glimmering presents soon filled the room. Tanya gazed into the crackling fire, sipping on the warm cocoa. She glanced around to her friends, then back to the fire. This was what made it worth it, a year of planning and preparation, just for this moment. Tomorrow the world would wake and see the wondrous presents waiting to be opened.

Tanya smiled once again, Christmas was saved.

️ **Author's note**: This update, as you might have noticed, was a lot longer than normal because I had to fit the whole story in. Let me know what you thought in the comments! I hope that you enjoyed reading it as I did writing(for most of it...) Have a great New Year and God bless! 🍪

**_Greenie_**


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